


New Beginnings

by Shaderose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Tower, Bisexual Peter Parker, But he'll figure it out, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Foster homes, Friends to Lovers, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is Gay, Harley doesnt know tony whoops, High School, How Do I Tag, Hurt Harley Keener, Hurt Peter Parker, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, M/M, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Bisexual, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, he just doesnt know it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaderose/pseuds/Shaderose
Summary: "Harley doesn't-have-a-last-name was an enigma, a puzzle, and Peter would be damned if he didn't figure it out."





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Just a few things to note before we get into the story:
> 
> -This is my first fanfic for this fandom, and on this site, so if it's bad I'm sorry lol  
> -This happens about a year after Spider-Man: Homecoming. Because of that (and because I dont want that sadness in my life), Infinity War and Endgame are not happening in this fic.  
> -Also because of that, Peter and Harley are Juniors in high school and are both 17.  
> -Harley and Tony don't know each other! (I haven't seen Iron Man 3 so i don't know if that would actually mess up the canon or not, but the canons already pretty messed up in this story sooo). Harley's just a new kid in Peter's school that he meets.  
> -Harley will probably be very OOC at the beginning, but there's a reason for that ;)
> 
> I think that's it, so yeah! As I said, this is the first fanfic I've written in like, 5 years (wow yikes) so it's not the best, but I tried! Lol
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

"-and so, using this easier method, the derivative of x²+3x-1 would be...?" The teacher, Mrs. Miller, trails off, expecting someone in the class to answer it for her.

Peter would normally jump at the chance to answer this type of question, because * _that's easy, it's 2x+3_ *, but today he couldn't find it in himself to care. His leg is bouncing, he's tapping his foot on the floor, and his entire body is almost vibrating with excitement and impatience.  
* _God, will this period ever be over?_ *

Today is the first day since the beginning of Winter Break that Ned is able to come over and hang out. Its not like they didn't try to hang out over the break, but with Peter's usually busy schedule being mixed with the holidays (making it _extra_  busy) and Ned leaving town to visit family for said holidays, it just never worked out. But today, _today_ , Ned is back home, Peter's at his aunts for the night with no extra homework or stress, and there's a new lego set (gifted courteously by Mr. Stark as Peter's Christmas gift, which Peter was not expecting at all) with both of their names on it. The stars had aligned, God has blessed him, and this day was almost perfect. _Almost_

Peter keeps subconciously checking the clock. 2:13, 2:20, 2:34, 2:35, He could've sworn it had been more than a minute! He lets out a soft sigh, and starts tapping his pencil against his paper, his leg bouncing even faster.

There's a swoosh, and then a small piece of paper is above his notes. He moves it closer to him and reads the surprisingly neat handwriting on it, 'you good?'

He looks to his left. MJ is staring at him with her usual bored don't-give-a-shit-about-anything face, though Peter could see the slight concern in her amber eyes. Her eyes always showed her true emotions (eyes are the gateway to the soul, after all), and Peter had also gotten better at reading her over the year or so he's known her.

He sends her a small smile, and writes quickly, pushing the paper back to her desk. 'yeah, just excited'

The paper floats back. 'going to your "internship" again?' She quirks an eyebrow at him, teasing him.

Peter rolls his eyes. MJ had found out about his Spider-Manning a while back, ("through deduction, and the fact that you're really bad at keeping a secret, Peter"). He had denied it vehemently, but she had just given him a look, and he had broken. He was very bad at lying too, apparently.

'you know I actually have an internship now, right? and nah not today, me and Ned are hanging out later'

'oh? have fun, nerd' The teasing look grows, and he rolls his eyes again, shaking his head. She's constantly on their case about being like soulmates ("you losers can't be apart from each other for too long or you go crazy, and when you are together, it's like you finish each other sentences. If that's not gross soulmate stuff, I dont know what is"). Peter can't really disagree, though it's definitely platonic. Ned's like the brother he's never had, so the idea of being anything other than friends with him is just kinda weird.

He turns back to his notes, scrambling slightly to catch up due to MJ's distraction. He's grateful for it though, as he looks back to the clock to see 2:50 shining back at him in vibrant red numbers. * _Only ten more minutes, you can do this, you got this_ *

He refocuses on the lesson, marking down the derivatives to the equations faster than the teacher can teach them, feeling time crawling by, slowly but surely, until-

A buzz from the PA, "Mrs. Miller, may Peter Parker come down to the office please?"

Mrs. Miller pauses her writing on the smartboard only for a second to respond, "Yes, of course!"

"Thank you!" The voice, one of the receptionists, chirps back, before the PA fuzzes out.

Peter blinks, shocked more than anything, and slightly concerned. He stands, any thought of the fun afternoon wiped away as a million other, much more negative thoughts start running through his head. What had he done wrong? Did he even do anything?? * _I don't think so? I don't remember doing anything wrong. Maybe it's not a bad thing?_ * He has been called down to the office for not-bad reasons before, like when he forgets his homework at home or at the lab, and his aunt or Happy brings it back for him. * _But it's last period, that doesn't make sense. Oh god, what if I did do something? What if they know about Spider-Man? That doesn't even make sense, I don't even have the suit on me, okay calm down_ *

Before he knows it, he's standing in front of the office door. He takes a deep breath, before opening it, plastering a large smile on his face as he makes eye contact with the receptionist. "Hey, I was called down from class? Peter Parker?"

She smiles back to him, hers looking just as fake as his feels, before pointing to a door behind her. "Principal Morita wants to see you."

He blinks again, and swallows down a lump in his throat. This is worse than he thought. * _What did I do?!?_ * "O-Okay, thank you." He murmurs timidly before circling around her desk, walking towards the door of doom. He takes another deeper, shakier breath, and seals his fate.

The scene in front of him was the last thing Peter expected. It wasn't something crazy, it was actually a pretty normal situation. Principal Morita was sat at his desk in the back of the particularly small room, and in front of him, sat in one of the two generic plastic office chairs, is a kid he's never seen before. The image wasn't shocking, but Peter still wasn't expecting it. Now the real question is, why is he here? The principal has never needed another student to talk to a new kid before, at least from what Peter knows, so... why does he now?

Speaking of the principal, his eyes shoot up to Peter as soon as the door creaks open. "Ah, Peter! There you are!"

Peter smiles at him nervously, muttering a greeting and moving further into the room before his gaze flickers to the new kid. From where he's standing, he can see that the kid has golden blond hair, shorter around the sides but seemingly longer in the front, tossed up lazily but still managing to look decent (which Peter is not jealous about, not one bit), and that they have a softer jawline, so they most likely have softer features. But, from the way the kid is back on to Peter and from the way they're slouched, that's all he can make out.

Principal Morita waves his hand from Peter to the new kid. "Peter, this is Harley. Harley is starting out at our school this semester, and I noticed that you and Harley have very similar schedules. So I figured you could, you know, show him the ropes of Midtown. Show him where his classrooms are, who his teachers are, all that."

At this, the new kid, Harley, finally sits up and looks to Peter. Peter was right about the softer features, though they were a little more angular than he expected, and his eyes almost looked like cumulonimbus clouds, dark and stormy. A blueish-gray. Peter has to admit, Harley is good looking  (Peter is _definitely_  not jealous of that too) and, from the confident body language of the kid, he'd say he knows it too.

Peter realizes he's staring too long, and holds out a hand towards Harley. "Yeah, yeah, of course! Hi, I'm Peter, P-Parker. Peter Parker." He stammers out. * _Real smooth, Peter_ *

Harley looks up at his hand for a second, before standing to shake it. God, he's tall. Well, everyone's tall to Peter, who only barely hits 5'5 (stupid Parker genes), but Harley had to be 6' at least, tall and lanky. "Harley."

Peter grins at him, a genuine smile this time. "Nice to meet you, Harley!" Harley's eyes seem to brighten a little at that, though his face stays the same as when Peter first walked in, stoic and neutral.

Principal Morita claps his hands together. "Now that you boys are acquaintances, let's have you two meet back here tomorrow morning at, let's say, 8:30? to really get this show on the road!"

Harley nods once as Peter agrees, and then they're off on their separate ways. As Peter starts walking back to his math class to get his materials, he can't help but glance back at Harley, walking towards the entrance of the school. There's something about the kid that Peter just... Can't put his finger on. The hunched figure Peter saw when he first walked in, the silent confident he had when he first looked at Peter, the stoic, emotionless face. It all reminded Peter of MJ, but... There was something more to it for Harley. There was something else, a story behind the mask. Harley doesn't-have-a-last-name was an enigma, a puzzle, and Peter would be damned if he didn't figure it out.

* _Jesus Christ, can you be any more creepy? You've barely met the guy!_ * Peter shakes his head to try and rid the thoughts from his mind, and continues his trek to the classroom, forcing himself to think about his best friend and the large Lego set yet to be built.


	2. First Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, woop woop!  
> Enjoy! :)

Harley sighs quietly, his breath coming out like smoke in the bitter winter air. He was stood outside of the front doors of 'Midtown School of Science and Technology', leaning against a wall just out of view, his heart racing like a fucking maniac for no reason. Its not like this is the first high school orientation he's ever had. Maybe his heart is racing because in reality, he's had way too many of these school orientations. Although usually, they're with the principal of the school, or a teacher, it's never been with a student from the school before. Maybe that's why he's nervous? * _Nervous? I'm not nervous! Especially not because of some stupid kid, and some stupid school with some stupid orientation. It's stupid, stop being stupid!_ *  
Harley lets out a huff of frustration, burying the bottom half of his face into the soft scarf around his neck and glaring at the snow-covered ground. He should just go in already, Peter's probably waiting for him.

Peter. Peter Parker. Harley's first impression of him is... Good. Really good, if he's being honest. The guy seems friendly enough, maybe a little _too_  friendly. He seems like the type of person to latch on to someone as soon as he meets them and to care about anyone and everyone immediately. Peter just has this constant look in his eyes that screams "I would jump in front of a plane for you" and it's honestly kind of unnerving to Harley, seeing as Peter has known him for less than 5 minutes. That amount of trust, care, innocence... Its something Harley could never ever understand.

Harley shakes his head and pushes off of the wall. Time to bite the bullet before he freezes out here. His dark blue jacket seems to protest against the movement, crackling as if a thin sheet of frost had formed over it, and his skinny jeans had stiffened up around his legs. Harley doesn't think he'll ever get used to New York weather, much less New York winters, and he definitely wasn't prepared for it. Harley can't even remember the last time he's seen snow before now.

He walks into the school, warmth flooding over his body and making extremities tingle as they thaw out of their almost frostbitten state. * _Thank God that heaters exist_ * Harley's probably being dramatic, but can you blame him, it's cold!

Just as he expected, Peter Parker is waiting for him outside of the office. He's sat on a wooden bench just beside the door, staring intently at his phone. His slicked back brown hair is staying perfectly in place as he hunches over the device, his eyesbrows pushed together almost as if he's perplexed, concerned, and his lips are a thin line as he seemingly types out a message. He's wearing a light blue sweater with a flannel shirt underneath, so only the collar can be seen, and a pair of baby blue jeans. * _That is the nerdiest outfit I have ever seen in my life._ *

Suddenly, without any prompting on Harley's part, Peter's head shoots up. The initial shock (and fear?) in his coffee brown eyes quickly changes to recognition and excitement, a bright smile breaking through the concerned expression on his face. The pure strength and _innocence_  of the emotions almost smacks Harley right off of his feet.

"Hey Harley, you made it! I was worried you wouldn't show for a second!" There's a teasing glint in his eyes and in the tone of his voice, but Harley winces internally, guilt flooding through him as he glances at one of the clocks on the wall. 8:42. Guess he was outside a little longer than he thought.

"Sorry," he mumbles quietly, lifting his mouth out of the scarf. "Didn't mean to be late." He means it, he didn't mean to make Peter worried. What a great second impression. * _Not that it'll matter before long_ * Harley quickly pushes those thoughts away.

Peter's eyes widen. "Wha- no no no its okay! I was just teasing, it's no big real, don't worry." He stumbles over his words, seemingly trying to reassure Harley as quick as possible, like if he didn't say it fast enough, Harley wouldn't believe him. He then clears his throat sheepishly, quickly finishing the text he was writing before pocketing his phone and standing. "So, do you have a locker yet?" He swings his beige backpack over one shoulder, sending Harley another blinding grin, the embarrassment he had before seemingly gone. The only sign of it still existing was a faint redness littering his cheeks.

Harley nods once, "Number 2304."

Peter seems to brighten at the number. "Hey, that's near mine! Come on, I'll show you!"

The first thing Harley notices about Midtown is that the hallways here are _fucking huge._  Like, there could be two cars put side by side, and there would still be enough room to go around them. Lockers cover all of the walls, only breaking for doors to classrooms every so often. Above the lockers on the walls are decals, symbols and posters that represent the different departments and sections of the school, seemingly based around whatever subject was being taught, science, math or otherwise.

The thing that unnerved Harley the most though was the amount of students. There were _so many people_  in the hallways alone, Harley didn't even want to imagine how many there were in the entire school. There were pockets of students beside the lockers, friend groups if he were to guess. There were people walking in and out of classrooms, with and without materials, and they had to have walked passed at the very least 150 people in their short walk. And to feel as if all of these people had their eyes on you, judging you, scoping out the new kid, well... It was overwhelming to say the least. * _It had never been this bad in the other schools._ *

Harley swallows down the panic rising in his chest, and keeps his eyes to the ground, following Peter blindly. They can't all be looking at him, right? That's not possible, they must have other things to worry about other than the new kid. They must have homework and tests and school stuff or social stuff, relationships and friendships, gossip... right?? They can't all be focused on him, they couldn't be. His chest tightens even more. It's not possible, it isn't, they couldn't be-

"We're here!" Peter's chipper voice startles him out of his panicked haze, and Harley has to stumble to stop himself in time with Peter's (seemingly) abrupt stop. Luckily, he does just before running into the boy. * _Smooth, Harley, real smooth_ *

Harley quickly looks to the locker they stopped beside, not chancing a glance at Peter, worried that his anxiousness was written all over his face. * _Come on Harley, don't make a fool of yourself already!_ * He checks the number, 2304. It was his locker alright.

"And my locker, if you want to know, is juuust down there." Peter turns his body to point to a set of lockers down the hall before turning back to face him. "Did you bring your own lock??"

Harley nods, and takes off his backpack, unzipping it to find the lock. "That's good!" Peter chirps, clapping his heads together before catching his falling backpack, readjusting it back onto the one shoulder. Harley lets out a snort of amusement at the awkward movements, and Peter visibly brightens at the sound. "Do you have your-"

A loud, echoing ring cuts off Peter's words, causing Harley to jump and Peter to flinch. The hallways suddenly become full of hussle and bustle, people on their way to first period, Harley guessed.

As the bell subsides, Peter rubs at his ear, his face contorted in what looked like a bit of pain. Harley knew the bell was loud, but it didn't seem _that_  loud... "As I was saying, do you have your books?"

Harley's eyes widen. Shit- he had forgotten all about books. Peter chuckles at his expression, the pain melting off of his face. "Don't worry if you don't, we can go get them now, once your done at your locker." He nods his head towards the metal to emphasize his point as Harley finishes putting his backpack, coat and scarf away, revealing his simple black v-neck, and finishes getting his lock set up.

Harley tilts his head in confusion. "Don't... Don't you have class?" They did just hear the bell go off, but Peter seemed in no rush to go anywhere.

Peter gives him an amused smile, his eyes softening. "The teachers know I'm helping you out, so I'm allowed to be late today. Besides, I'm only missing bio. I'm not concerned. Thanks for caring though." He pauses for a second. "Speaking of classes, can I have your schedule??"

Harley fishes through his bag, now hung in the locker, for the slip of paper and hands it to Peter. "Not concerned about bio?" He murmurs, genuinely curious. Harley can't stand biology. He's more of a tactile learner than a studier, he can't seem to get all the terms into his head, and it's honestly just not his thing.

But Peter seems to like it, or at least is good at it, if his nonchalance is anything to go by. "Nah, bio isn't too hard. Its like chem, you just gotta keep up in class. And, word of advice? Actually do the worksheets." He rolls his eyes. "The amount of people who don't do the worksheets and then find that the test was hard astounds me. Like really, we're in a STEM school, you'd think people would realize that practice makes perfect, and that you gotta do hard work to get good results. Its really not that hard of a concept! But no, they think they're too cool or something, and then they complain."

A small smile grows on Harley's face as he listens to Peter rant, his hand waving around dramatically, emphasising, a slight scowl on his face. He's seems pretty passionate about this, and Harley thinks he knows why.

Harley shuts and locks his locker before turning to face Peter, quirking an eyebrow. "Science person?"

Peter just grins back at him, eyes alight with mischief. "How could you tell?" He leans against the lockers and folds his arms over his chest. "Let me guess, tech person?"

Harley's places a hand over his chest, his mouth opening wide in fake surprise. "Oh, how could you tell??" He mocks, his smile growing wider as Peter let's out a loud laugh, the sound echoing in the now empty hallway.

Peter shakes his head, bouncing off the wall before starting to walk down the hallway, a big goofy smile on his face. "Let me put my bag in my locker, then we'll go get your books, _techie_."

Harley laughs softly at the nickname, following right alongside Peter. His chest swells with warmth. It's not the same burning panic as before, that rises and roars and aches, charring up his lungs until he can't breathe. It's instead a small flame of affection, almost like a fireplace, compact and contained, warm and _safe_. With Peter at his side... Maybe he could get used to this big school after all.

Maybe he can truly enjoy this while it lasts.

 


	3. First Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

The rest of the morning seemed to go pretty well in Peter's eyes. The two went from class to class, joking and teasing each other along the way and Peter learned a bit more about the reserved boy. He finally learned his last name ("Keener? That's... Different. Usually it's a boring name like Smith, or Jones or-" "Or Parker?" "Hey!"), that he is a technology guy and some of the things he has built like a * _potato gun, who builds a potato gun?_ *, and that he's from Tennessee, which Peter probably could've guessed from slight accent Harley speaks with.

Even though their schedules were very very similar like Principal Morita had said, there were still a few classes that they didnt have together, and Peter would have to show Harley his class before going off to his own. Aside from that, they were almost conjoined at the hip. Harley seemed to be coming out of his shell and Peter was pretty over the moon about it. It felt like nothing could go wrong. So, of course, something went wrong.

Peter walks back to Harley's class, physics with Mr. Jackson, with a skip in his step. Third period had just finished, and it was now time for lunch. Peter figured Harley would be joining him at his lunch table, seeing as he literally had nowhere else to go being the new kid, which is why he was on his way to retrieve the southern boy.

Harley was stood just outside of Mr. Jackson's door, posture tense, eyes fixed to the ground and figeting with the binder in his hand. He seemed so nervous, and the sight made Peter's heart ache. He had looked the same way when Peter came to get him after first period too. * _What's making him so nervous? It's probably just first day jitters_ *

Peter plastered on a smile before saying "Hey! It's lunch time!"

Harley jumps, his eyes shooting up to meet Peter's, wide and anxious before calming, his body relaxing at the sight of Peter. And _that_  kind of made Peter's heart swell.

He tilts his head, looking behind Peter before reconnecting their eyes. "Already? Isn't it a bit early?"

Peter shrugs. "Maybe, but its always been this way. Different at your old school?"

Harley looks away, his body tensing again. "...Yeah, kinda."

Peter's eyesbrows bunch together at the short answer. * _Kinda? Wouldn't that be a straight yes or no question? Well, he did say yes..._ * Peter shakes his head slightly, and decides to let it go for the moment. It seems like a sore topic anyways.

They stop at their lockers quickly to get their lunches before making their way to the cafeteria. The large room is filled to the brim with students, each sat with their respective groups at their own respective tables. Loud chatter and laughter can be heard from a mile away, each group in their own conversation, full of drama, gossip, which celebrity did what, what movie came out this weekend, what game is coming out soon, how awful so and so is as a teacher, how this person cheated on their boyfriend, how that person just lost their virginity. Anything can be heard strolling through the cafeteria of Midtown High. Peter thankfully learned how to block all the noise out a while ago. When he first got bitten, he couldn't go near the cafeteria without getting a massive migraine from all the sounds and scents.

He can easily see how it can be extremely intimidating to someone new, so when he glances at Harley and sees how overwhelmed he clearly is, Peter isn't surprised.

He places a hand on his shoulder, and gives him a gentle, sympathetic smile. "My tables over here, come on."

He walks Harley over to his table, before flopping down in his seat. MJ is say right in front of him on the other side of the table, pieces of her chestnut hair falling into her face as she draws in her sketchbook, as per usual. Ned is sat right beside her, munching happily on some fries, a half eaten burger resting beside them on his tray, and gives Peter a huge, gross grin as he sits down. He then looks behind Peter and confusion floods his eyes.

Peter takes that as his cue. "Guys, this," He waves his arm to the boy who is stood very awkwardly behind him. "Is Harley. He's new to the school, and I'm showing him around today. Mind if he sits here?"

"Nah, he seems like a loser. He'll fit right in." MJ remarks bluntly, not looking up from her drawing.

Harley seems to flinch slightly at her harsh words. Peter shakes his head at him, still smiling gently. "That's just the way MJ is, don't take it to heart."

Ned finally swallows his food enough to talk. "Dude, you didn't tell me you were showing around a new kid?"

Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Yeah, I did. Last night, remember? We were building the tower from our Lego set, and you asked me why I was late coming to get you, and I told you that I was called down to the office and that I appar-"

"Apparently had to show around a new kid, riiight right." Ned cuts him off, recognition of the conversation showing in his face. Ned then turns to Harley, holding out a hand, grin returning onto his face. "Im Ned, by the way, Peter's best friend and sidekick."

Peter glares and kicks Ned under the table for the last comment, but it seems to have gone unnoticed by Harley, who stares at Ned's outstretched hand for a second before shaking it with his own.

MJ looks up to Harley, giving him a once over before stating "Michelle" and going back to sketching. Harley nods at her once, slowly, before figeting again, seeming very awkward and uncomfortable. Peter frowns. * _He probably feels like he's intruding. Time to change that._ *

Peter pats the chair beside him, giving him a grin of his own. "What, are ya gonna stand there all day?" * _Teasing seemed to help earlier. Maybe it'll help again...?_ *

Harley visibly relaxes, a small smile growing on his face as he takes Peter's offer, sitting down beside him. Peter grin widens. Success! "...Lego tower?"

Ned brightens at the mention of Legos. "Yeah! Peter got the new 'Stark Tower' set as a Christmas gift from Tony Stark himself!"

Harley eyes widen, flicking to Peter, filled with shock. "Tony Stark?"

Peter groans internally. He was really hoping that Harley wouldn't find out about his relation to Mr. Stark right away. He wanted to get to know Harley for a few days first, _really_  get to know him, before the 'I-know-a-celebrity' card was dropped. Now he just had to hope Harley didn't want to be friends with him just for that, or worse, that it didn't scare him off.

Ned didn't seem phased though. "Yeah! Peter has an internship at Stark Industries. He's Iron Man's personal assistant!" He gushes. "How cool is that?!?"

"Ned!" Peter hisses at him, and kicks him under the table again, harder this time.

"What??" He cries, muttering an "ow that hurt" under his breath, leaning down to rub at his shin. Peter just sighs loudly as an answer, running his hand over his face.

"...does sound pretty cool." A soft voice breaks the moment of silence between them. Peter turns his head, Harley smiling a real smile at him, blue eyes full of kindness and understanding.

Peter smiles back. * _Maybe he won't like me just for Tony after all._ * "So, you like Legos?"

The conversation goes on smoothly from there, Peter and Ned ranting about the different Legos sets they've built, Harley giving his opinion from time to time, smiling and relaxed, and MJ scoping out more victims to draw in her sketchbook.

Suddenly, about halfway through lunch, Harley goes silent. Peter doesn't notice it at first, too wrapped up in ranting to Ned about how episode 4 for Star Wars was so much better than the others ("It's the original, you can't beat the original!"). Harley stands suddenly, stiffly, head down, muttering about going to the bathroom before stalking off. Peter watches him go, a frown forming on his face.

"Oookayy?" Ned elongates, seeming confused as well before shaking it off and continuing his rant on why episode 6 is better.

Peter tries to pay attention but he can't get his mind off of Harley, concern flooding through him. * _What happened? Did we say or do something?? Maybe he just got overwhelmed again?_ * Whatever it was, Peter figured he just needed a minute, so he left it be.

By the end of lunch, however, Harley still hadn't returned and Peter was a nervous wreck. * _Where did he go? Why didn't he come back? Is he okay?_ * The questions swirled his mind as he walks robotically to his locker, putting his lunch away and grabbing the materials for his next class, chemistry with Ned. He looks down the hallway subconsciously, before doing a double take, seeing Harley stood at his locker.

Peter shuts his own locker quickly, speed walking down the hallway, trying to get to Harley as soon as possible just in case he decided to run away again. "Hey, are you okay?? You never came back to lunch...?"

"Im fine." He responds curtly, not looking to Peter as he rummages through his locker.

Peter's frown deepens, his concern growing. "Are you sure? You just kinda ran off-"

"Yes, Peter." He huffs, slamming and locking his locker. His gaze turns to Peter, his eyes icy and closed off, none of the warmth from the day present. "Where's Mrs. Lee's room?"

Peter swallows a lump in his throat. "I-It's just down that way-"

Harley pushes past him, causing Peter to have to regain his balance. "Come on then."

The rest of the day is spend this way, Harley giving small, short answers, sometimes outright ignoring Peter, cold and harsh, a completely 180 from the way he was before. Peter wracks his brain, trying to figure out what he said or did for this to happen, where he had gone wrong. But he can't figure it out. One minute things were fine, great even, and the next minute they weren't.

The last bell rings, signaling the end of the day. Harley grabs his materials quickly, seemingly wanting to leave as soon as possible, and Peter panics as he starts to walk out the door. "W-Wait!"

Harley stops, and turns slightly, giving Peter a chance. Peter quickly writes something down, ripping off the slip of paper and holding out to Harley. "Here. It's my number, j-just in case you need anything, or have any questions or anything!"

Harley stares at it, before grabbing it and muttering a thanks, walking away without so much as a goodbye.

As Peter stares after him, he can only think one thing.

* _What did I do wrong?_ *


	4. First Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I somehow got all three types of conflict (internal, interpersonal and slight external) into this chapter completely by accident. That's kinda neat, seeing as the title literally means first conflict lol. It's mostly Harley's internal conflict tho, poor Harley.
> 
> Theres so much italics in this chapter oml I'm sorry Harley's just a dramatic boy apparently
> 
> Also, thanks for all the Kudos and comments!! You guys are awesome, and I'm really glad youre all enjoying it.
> 
> Also also, there's one homophobic slur used in this chapter. So if that upsets you, I'll put a bold letter in front of the paragraph it's in so you can skip it. I honestly hate the word, and didn't want to write it, but it's kind of necessary for plot.
> 
> Enough rambling though. Enjoy the chapter!!

Harley slowly walks back to the building, head and legs feeling as heavy as his heart. He can almost feel the copious amount of guilt weighing down his body, and he kind of wishes he could just collapse into the snow and stay there. Everytime he so much as blinks, he can see Peter's big puppy dog eyes, filled to the brim with sadness, hurt and _blame,_ and god if that doesn't make Harley hate every fiber of his being, he doesn't know what does.

Harley _wishes_  he could wipe that expression off of Peter's face. He wishes he could continue to joke and tease Peter like they'd done all morning. He wishes he could continue to make Peter smile and laugh, having pure innocent _happiness_ shining in his brown eyes. He wishes he could get to know Ned better, he loved hearing him and Peter bicker like an old married couple about the nerdiest things in the world. Hell, he even wishes he could get to know _Michelle_ better, even if he definitely wasn't scared of her at all. He thinks they all could've been really good friends, going out to movies and parties, hanging out.

But it can't happen. It _can't_. He couldn't get into this false hope that maybe he'd stay after the few months are over, and he knew that if he allowed himself to open up, allowed himself to have these friends, he _would._ And he couldn't let that happen. Harley can't get close to them, he can't let _them_  get close to _him._ He wouldn't let them get hurt because of him, it wasn't fair to them.

Better to push them away now and hurt them a little, than let them in and hurt them a lot. It was better for everyone this way.

He blinks back into reality, stopping in front of the apartment building. How did he even get here? He shakes his head, not really caring, walking into the warmth and heading for the elevator. He rubs his hands together as it ascends to the 11th floor, stepping out as it reaches it destination. * _Number 1003_ * he reminds himself, finding the number quickly and pulling out the key he was holding in his coat pocket, unlocking the door. He takes a deep breath before opening it.

He shuts it and makes a beeline to his- _the guest,_ room, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. He faintly hears a voice behind him, calling his name, but chooses to ignore it, shutting the door behind him as he walks in. He lets out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding, before dropping his backpack onto the floor beside him and hanging up his coat on a hook on the door.

The room was nothing spectacular, it's cream walls and light hardwood floor leaving it very neutral. There's a small desk in the far left corner of the room, with a calander hanging above it and a small garbage can sitting next to it. Beside the desk, there's a door to a closet, with a few hooks on it. The bed, a twin bed, is in the other corner, and it's light blue sheets and white comforter are the only customized thing in the room. Overall, it was very plain and unpersonalized. * _Like it should be. You won't be here very long anyways._ *

Harley sighs, and collapses heavily onto the bed, bouncing slightly as he does. He's lying on his stomach, face down into the pillows, his head only lifted enough to breathe. He wishes he could stay like this, just lying and breathing and _alone_. But he knows better than that. He sighs again, counting in his head. * _One, two, three..._ *

There's a knock on the door. "Harley?" A softer, higher pitched voice calls out gently. "Sweetie, can I come in?"

* _No._ * "Yes, Mrs. Davis."

He hears the door creak open and gentle footsteps before he feels the bed dip slightly under her weight. "I thought I told you to call me Becca."

She's only teasing, Harley knows, but it reminds him so much of Peter at the moment that he has to shut his eyes quickly to stop from crying, his heart squeezing painfully.

After a beat of silence when Harley doesn't answer, Mrs. Davis continues. "How was your first day of school?"

* _Awful. I ruined everything._ * Harley squeezes his eyes shut tighter. "Good, Mrs. Davis." Is all he can choke out over the lump in his throat.

"Are you sure...?"

* _"Are you sure? You just kinda ran off-"_ * Peter's voice echoes in his head and Harley nods once, not trusting himself to speak anymore without crumbling.

Another beat of silence, as if she's considering something, but then she lets out a defeated sigh, and a hand rests on his back, in between his shoulder blades. "Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, okay sweetheart?"

He nods again, and she waits another second or two before standing and walking out of the room. It's only when the door clicks shut behind her that his body finally convulses in a sob, tears falling down his face, a hand going to his mouth to keep himself quiet.

He knows he can fix this. He can walk over to his bookbag, grab Peter's number and text him, apologize to him, and he knows Peter would understand. Peter would forgive him immediately. He could become best friends with Peter. He could join their lunch table everyday, and maybe bring up how he likes Star Trek better than Star Wars, just to see Peter and Ned's horrified reactions. He could try and worm his way into Michelle's heart, getting her to relax around him like she does around Peter and Ned. He could fix _everything._

But he can't. He _shouldn't._  This was the only way to make sure they don't get hurt. * _To make sure you don't get hurt._ * It's the only way.

His tears only stop once he's cried himself into an unsettled sleep.

\--

It's been a week since Harley's first day. A week of ignoring Peter's kicked puppy looks, and attempts at conversations that slowly faded away as the days went by. A week of Michelle's not so subtle stares slowly turning into glares in chemestry, and Ned's questioning looks from across the room in electrical technology. A week trying to avoid them at all costs, just to try and not feel _so damn guilty._ A week of trying to remember which class was where on his own, a part of him begging to just * _go ask Peter, he said you could_ *, but he never does. A week of sitting outside in the cold during lunch, not wanting to go into the cafeteria and see all of the friend groups, see Peter and what could have been _his_  friend group, and knowing he could never have it. A week of trying to act like he doesn't care, when he cares _so damn much_.

A week of feeling complete, crushing _loneliness._ * _But this is what you wanted, right?*_  No. Not what he wanted, but what he thinks (what he _knows_ , he tells himself) is right.

He opens his locker as the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. His body shivers, goosebumps raising on his arms as he puts his lunch bag away, his teeth chattering slightly. Today was one of the coldest days they've had this winter, according to the weatherman Harley briefly watched on the news this morning, yet Harley still found himself eating outside, his guilt stronger than his common sense. And maybe he had hoped the freezing cold would numb his feelings as well as his body. It didn't work.

Harley leans his forehead against his locker, and shuts his eyes, rubbing up and down his arms. He was _so tired_ , physically and emotionally. He didn't know how much longer he could deal with this, and it had only been a week. * _Their anger and pain will pass. Give it time. And, worse comes to worse, it's only a few months. You can do this. You got this._ * He chants to himself over and over, trying to convince himself that it was true, trying to find the strength to lift his head and continue his day. But it was hard, so hard. How could he keep doing this? How could he keep this up for months if he can barely do it for _a week?_  He grits his teeth and lifts his head. He just has to, that's the end of the story. He goes to grab his books, to suck it all up and head to his next class, to go back to pretending, when he hears a loud bang, a groan, and yelling coming from down the hallway. A groan that sounded so awfully familiar...

It seems like fate has other plans for Harley.

He turns in the direction of the sounds, and he freezes, eyes widening. There's a group of people in a semi circle surrounding the area of Peter's locker, most of them are bulky, strong, but there are a few short, thinner ones too. All of them are sneering and laughing at something, _someone._.. Harley's stomach drops, dread filling him as he hopes, begs that it isn't who he thinks it is. But as he takes a few steps over to get a better view, he knows that he wouldn't be that lucky.

In the middle of the circle, the brown haired, doe eyed boy himself is pressed against the locker by a shorter, but bulkier boy. The boys hand is around Peter's neck, pushing his collar against the locker, holding Peter in place. Peter's face holds an air of nonchalance, as if the bully doesn't faze him, but his eyes are wide, showing his fear.

"Please just leave me alone." He says, trying to push out of the grip. That only seems to piss the guy off more, as he shoves Peter's body against the locker again with another loud _bang!_

"Awh, but what's the fun in that, freak?" The bully almost spits in Peter's face, their faces almost touching at the little amount of space between them.

Harley flinches at the loud noise, at the mocking laughter of the other students, before pure unadulterated _anger_ floods through his veins, his body warming instantaneously. That _bastard_... Harley didn't like bullies normally, he wouldn't allow anyone to be bullied if he could help it, but knowing it was on the sweetest, nicest, purest person Harley's ever met... Harley can't, _won't_ , let it happen. Even if that person was the exact person he's been trying to avoid for the past week.

Before his mind can catch up to that thought, he finds himself storming over to the circle, pushing past the crowd and grabbing the back of the boys shirt, shoving him away with force. "He told you to leave him alone."

The boy's dirty blond, shaggy hair falls in front of his hazel eyes. * _Cameron_ *, his mind supplies. A kid he's seen in a few of his classes, who's always talking back to teachers and making a fuss. Being a dick. Harley isn't surprised in the least to see that he's a bully too.

Harley hears a quiet, shocked "H-Harley?" come from beside him but he doesn't shift his heated glare as Cameron sends him a mocking grin. "And what if I don't? What are you gonna do about it, loser?"

He takes a step towards Harley as he says this, and Harley matches his step, chest puffing and fists clenching. A hand grabs at his shoulder, holding him back. "Don't Harley, he's not worth it. Come on, let's just go."

**H** arley pauses and relaxes slightly at Peter's pleading. He's about to agree, to let this go if not for himself then for Peter, when he hears Cameron chuckle darkly. "What, are you his boyfriend? You a _fag_  too?"

Harley sees red. He doesn't remember throwing the first punch, but he _does_ remember Cameron grabbing his shirt and pushing him against the locker, punching his face over and over again. The kid is smaller than him, but * _definitely stronger_ *, Harley thinks as pain explodes all over his face. His nose is definitely broken as blood is gushing out of it, and he knows he's gonna have at least one black eye at the end of this. Harley can barley hear the crowd 'ahh'ing and 'ohh'ing behind him, or Peter screaming his name through the ringing in his ears. He tries to knee Cameron, to hit him, to do anything other than get beaten to a pulp but Cameron just lifts him up higher and slams him into the locker again, the back of his head hitting the cold metal _hard_. His vision is suddenly flooded with white and the room starts to spin like crazy. He can't hear anything anymore, the ringing gone full blast, but his mouth is open so he must be making some sort of sound. He just hopes he's not screaming.

Harley blinks, and he's suddenly on the ground, back against the lockers, the other boy gone somehow. His face is on fire, burning and aching, and he groans, the taste of iron flooding his mouth. He continues to blink repeatedly, trying to unblur his vision and trying to stop the room from spinning. Suddenly there's a person in front of him, grabbing at his shoulders and his face. He tries to get his double vision under control enough to see who it is. He sees big caramel eyes staring back at him, wide and afraid, and smiles subconsciously. * _Peter. He's okay._ * Peter's trying to talk to him, trying to get him to respond Harley knows, his lips moving and his movements frantic, fearful, tears falling down his face and his hands shaking.

But, the black in the corners of his eyes and his sudden exhaustion becomes too much, and he lets himself succumb to the darkness, Peter's tear stained face being the last thing he sees.


	5. First Consequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to get out. I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason, to the point where I had to rewrite half of it just because I wasn't happy with it. Its still not my favorite, but it's better than it was.
> 
> It's the longest chapter so far though, and it should be the last angsty one for a while, so hopefully that makes up for the wait.
> 
> Also, Happy Spider-Man: Far From Home release day! I'm seeing it tonight and I am so not ready for it lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

* _Why?!? Why would he do that??_ *  
Peter is pacing in the small holding area of the office, his arms wrapped around himself tightly as he goes from one side of the room to the other, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His mind was racing almost as fast as his heart, and he could feel his entire body trembling with adrenaline, the shock of the situation long worn off. * _I had it under control, I always have. He shouldn't have joined in, the idiot!! He shouldnt have done that, shouldn't have fought him, shouldn't have even been there, I... I should've done more. I saw him throw the punch, I-I should've done something! I should've stopped him!_ * His breathing picks up and his vision blurs, but he doesn't care, can't care, lost in the memories of what had happened only moments before.

~~

As soon as the first punch was thrown, it was like everything was in slow motion for Peter. He saw Harley's fist connecting with Cam's jaw, sending him reeling back. He saw Cam grab Harley and push him into the locker. He saw Cam punch him over and over, _god, over and over_ , but Peter couldn't move. He felt like he was separated from his body, and all he could do was watch. Watch as Harley's face got beaten and bruised, watch as blood runs off his face and drops onto the ground, scarlet red a shocking contrast to the marble white floors, watch as Harley weakly tries to fight back and fails miserably, watch as his head slams back into the lockers, watch as his eyes go glossy, unfocused, and his head lolls forward. All Peter could do was watch.

Until suddenly, he could move. Time caught back up as Peter's mind did, and he immediately grabs Cam and throws him off of Harley as hard as possible, not accounting for his superstrength that sends him flying down the hallway. As Cam's body bangs harshly into another set of lockers down the hall, the crowd Peter forgot existed scatters, loud yelling being heard among the chaos. Peter doesn't pay any mind to it though, his attention going straight to the boy crumpled on the ground next to him, looking smaller than he ever has before. Staring down at the bruised, bleeding, broken mess that is Harley Keener, Peter can feel all of his emotions come to the forefront and Peter breaks. Tears stream down his cheeks and he sobs, collapsing onto his knees. He grabs Harley's shoulder and chin, lifting his head up to look into his eyes, begging whatever's looking over them that he's okay. Seeing his glossed over eyes, pupils dilated and shifting back and forth, unfocused, Peter's knows he's not okay, definitely not okay. In a normal mindset, Peter would have recognized the signs of a concussion, as he's seen, and had, them multiple times as Spider-Man, but right now he can't think straight in his frantic panic.

"Harley, come on, stay a-awake for me okay? C-Can you do that?" He's stuttering over his words, his breath hicking as sobs shake his body.

Harley's eyes squint a little and he's blinking repeatedly, not even seemingly to notice as one of his eyes slowly swells shut. He then smiles slightly and Peter's heart jumps.

"Hey, you with me, techie? C-Can you answer me?" He hopes, begs, Harley to answer, * _please god just answer me!_ *

Suddenly, Harley's eyes begin to close, and Peter loses it, not hearing the footsteps approaching from behind him. "No, no no no stay awake Harley, come on please!" A hand grabs at his shoulder, and he flinches away from it, turning around and holding an arm out in front of Harley, protecting him, shouting "Leave him alone!"

The person, Principal Morita, holds up his hands. "Peter, it's okay. Everything okay. We just need to get to Harley now, alright? Can you let us do that?" Peter's gaze shifts back and forth between the principal and the other person standing behind him, the nurse, before he nods quickly, crawling away from Harley's now unconscious body. As he sees the nurse start to work on the boy, Principal Morita watching and helping from beside him, Peter collapses into a fit of uncontrollable sobs, curling up into the ball, back leaning against the wall, praying that Harley will be okay.

~~

"-id? Come on, Pete, listen to me!" Peter is thrown back into reality, feeling his body being shaken kind of roughly by someone. "You need to breathe!" Oh yeah, that sounds important. He feels the burning in his lungs as he gasps and wheezes, hyperventilating (* _when did that happen?_ *). He tries to take a deep breath for the mysteriously familiar voice, but his eyes shoot open as he realizes he _can't_. * _Oh god I can't breath I can't-_ *

He gets pushed into the blurry figure in front of him, a hand pressing his head into the nook between their shoulder and chest, another hand rubbing at his back. "Breathe with me, kid, come on." The person takes a big, deep breath,  and Peter tries to copy, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels his panic continue to rise. * _I can't I can't I can't-_ * A scent reaches his nose, and his mind freezes, stopping its mantra. * _Cologne, aftershave, and a hint of motor oil_ *. The familiarity of the smell immediately sends a wave of comfort over him, his body relaxing slightly. Peter reaches and grips strongly onto the fabric of the persons, _Mr. Stark's_ , clothes (most likely an expensive suit) and finally takes a deeper breath, the grip on his lungs immediately getting looser. * _Mr. Stark's here. I'm safe. I'm safe._ *

"There you go, Pete. Just like that." He murmurs gently, still running his hand up and down Peter's back as he slowly, so very slowly, regains control of his breathing. As he does, he starts to notice and realize other things too. Like how he has tears streaming down his face when he doesn't remember crying, or how his entire body is shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. Or, like how he just had a fricken _panic attack_  in front of Mr. Stark.

Its not like he hasn't had them before, he has. It kind of comes with the job when you're a superhero, stopping crime and fighting bad guys and getting a building dropped on you and all that. Causes anxiety apparently. Its just that having one in the office of your school, after a fight with your bully, in front of your mentor-turned-father-figure? It is completely and utterly humiliating. He's Spider-Man for pete's sake, he's seen people _die_  (sadly), and he can't even handle a fist fight and one person getting hurt?

"I'm sorry." Peter croaks out, his throat dry and his voice shaky after his episode.

He can feel Mr. Stark shake his head. "Nothing to apologize for, kid." He pulls back, giving Peter a once over, his face neutral but his eyes showing his concern. "You good now?"

"Y-yeah, yeah." He sniffles, and rubs at his eyes with his hands curled into fists. It didn't lie, per say. He did feel better than he did during his _actual panic attack what the hell_ , but he can still feel the worry and concern, and _guilt_  over what caused said attack. He still feels upset and overwhelmed, but he wasnt going to tell Mr. Stark that. * _Its not like Mr. Stark hasnt seem you have one of these attacks before, you should tell him_ * His mind supplies but he shoves it away. This situation was embarassing enough as it was.

Mr. Stark just pats him on the shoulder with a sigh, his eyes hardening. He always seems to know when Peter isn't telling the truth, or at least in this case, not the complete truth. "Let's go home, yeah?"

At least he was letting it go. "D-Don't you need to talk to M-Mr. Morita?"

"Already done, Pete. Two days suspension."

Peter flinches at the news, but nods sullenly afterwards. It was reasonable enough, he knew how anti-violence his school was (god did he know. They preached to the choir about it almost everyday, and there were anti-bullying posters everywhere. As if that actually stopped it). But Peter still found it unfair that he was being punished for helping someone.

They both rise off of the ground that Peter doesn't even remember falling on to, before walking over to the cheap looking receptionists desk. Peter watches silently as Mr. Stark signs him out, and just as they're about to (finally) leave, a voice rings out behind them. "Mr. Parker!"

Peter freezes, groaning internally before turning around. "Y-Yes, Mr. Morita?"

The man stands tall, confident, and Peter almost cowers away at the stern look in his eyes. "I don't want to see this kind of behavior out of you again, am I clear?"

Peter feels a flare of indignation. He was only trying to help Harley out! All he did was push someone away, push a _bully_  away! He didn't even throw a punch! He wants to scream at the injustice of it all, but he knows better then that, and swallows his frustration, deciding to mutter a "Y-Yes sir." instead.

The principal nods once, seeming satisfied with the answer and if he could tell Peter was lying, he didn't show it.

He starts to turn away when Peter blurts out "W-Wait!" He looks back to him, expectantly, and Peter almost says 'nevermind!' and walks out right out the door with Mr. Stark, but this is something he needs to know, his guilt wouldn't settle until he knows, so he plants his feet and forces himself to speak. "...W-Will he be alright?"

Principal Morita's eyes soften a little at his words. "He'll be fine, Peter."

The words cause a wave of relief to flood over Peter, and he nods quickly, mumbling a thank you before turning back to Mr. Stark, ready to leave. The man, who stood silently throughout the entire interaction, flickers his eyes from Peter to the principal, before his face goes impartial, and he walks out the door, still not saying a word.

Peter's stomach churns as he follows, the relief from earlier fading quickly as he gets into the black convertable, his gaze set on his feet. He can feel Mr Starks disappointment coming off him in waves, and just the thought of it makes his heart clench. He hates disappointing the man, but at the same time he can still feel a small flame of annoyance burning in him, having it brighten at the unjust disappointment of his mentor. He doesn't regret what he did. Not one bit.

The ten minute ride to the tower is held in complete, utter silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The longer and longer Mr. Stark goes without talking, the more and more uneasy, nervous and _irritated_  Peter gets. Usually, he'd have said something by now, have asked him why he did it or something, anything instead of this bitter, _blaming_  silence.

So, when Mr. Stark parks the car and gets out without even a mutter, Peter kind of snaps. He jumps out of the car after him, snarking "Aren't you going to say something?"

Mr. Stark stops on his trek to the elevation, turning slowly to face Peter. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, his face still unbearably neutral even though Peter could tell he was pissed off, his body language saying 'oh really? You wanna repeat that?'

Peter wavers slightly, but holds strong, stubborn in his frustration. "You know, about how I got into a fight today? About how you clearly blame me for it? Even though I _didn't even do anything?_ No?"

Mr. Stark glares at him, before rolling his eyes and continuing towards the elevator. "Watch your attitude, kid."

Peter scoffs, following him into the elevator, body tense and hands balled into fists, anger flaring up in his chest. "Attitude?? You're blaming me for something I didn't even do!"

Mr. Stark presses a button, and the doors close before he sends Peter a hard glare. "You got into a fight, Peter."

"With a bully!" He raises his arms. "And it wasn't even me, it was-"

"We aren't having this conversation here." Mr. Stark cuts him off coldly, the tone of his voice leaving no room for discussion.

Peter wants to pull his hair out, but just lets out a loud huff instead, crossing his arms tighter and glaring at the floor. This was _so_  unfair. He didn't deserve any of this! This was all Harley's fault- no, no. He feels cold shame wash over him. Harley didn't do anything but try to help him out, and he got hurt because of it. He feels the guilt from before returning, squeezing his heart. This isn't his fault. This was Cam's fault, not Harley's.

He doesn't even know why he cares if it was Harley's fault or not, honestly. Peter doesn't know why he cares about Harley at all. He's knew the kid for approximately a day before he started avoiding Peter like he had the plague, and then he randomly goes and causes this mess. Why should he care if its his fault or not? It kind of _was_  his fault, he _did_ throw the first punch, after all.

But for some reason, Peter isn't mad at him, doesn't _want_  to be mad at him. For some reason, he _knows_  Harley didn't cause the fight to hurt Peter, in fact it seemed like the opposite. Even though that counteracted all of the things he did for the past week that _did_  hurt Peter. It didn't make any sense, Harley didn't make any sense. Why would he hurt Peter for a week, avoid him, snap at him, only for him to protect Peter against his bully? Only for him to save Peter from being hurt? There has to be a reason, Peter muses. Has to be a reason for Harley to avoid Peter, only to help him. Has to be a reason for him to hurt Peter, only to protect him, only to get himself hurt for Peter. Has to be a reason for the things Harley does. Has to be a reason for _Harley_. It only makes Peter more intrigued, and want to get to know him _more_.

And goddamn it, these thoughts are only making Peter more frustrated. He was so lost in his own head that he didn't even realize that they had stopped at their destination, the penthouse set at the top of the tower, and that he had followed Mr. Stark into a room until the door shut behind him.

Mr. Stark circles the very expensive wooden desk and sits in his office chair (* _We're in his office_ * Peter realizes), before leaning back and putting a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Peter almost feels bad for making his mentor-father-figure so stressed out, almost. He probably would have apologized to him had he not said four words that immediately turned Peter's blood cold, and make that small flame that had dimmed in the elevator roar back to life at full force. "Friday, call May Parker."

"Y-You're calling Aunt May??" Peter stammers out, still in a state of shock over it.

Mr. Stark sighs. "She couldn't get off work to pick you up, obviously, but she's on break now. Figured we could figure this out together."

Peter's irritating flares even more. "Figure this out?? Figure what out? There's nothing to 'figure out'!"

The man sighs again, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose harder. "Pete-"

The ringing that was echoing in the room during their bickering abruptly stops, and a softer, yet stern voice replaces it. _"Hey. You got him there with you?"_

"Yeeup." Mr. Stark pops the p as Peter jaw opens, irritation and frustration overflowing at this point, staring up at the ceiling as if he could see her that way. His eyes narrow at Peter. "With an attitude too."

"You knew about this?!?"

"Pete, we agreed on this when you first started coming over all the time." Mr. Stark shifts, turning his chair to the side and leaning back more, shutting his eyes. "Me and your aunt would deal with issues, and whatever may come after," His voice hardens at that. "together."

* _They're going to punish me together?? For something I didn't even do?!?_ * This was the first time Peter had really gotten into trouble since Mr. Stark had become an important aspect of his life, and he knew they had discussed things about him, for his well-being or whatever, but he never expected...  _this._

Peter laughs darkly, incredulously, his emotions bubbling over. "You're ganging up on me?! Seriously?!? This is so unfair!" He knows he sounds like a whiny little kid not getting what he wants but he just can't seem to care at the moment.

 _"Peter-"_ Aunt May warns.

"You don't even know what happened! You're just assuming things!"

"Kid, we're just trying to-" Peter runs over Mr. Starks words, rudely.

"You can't do this!! It's- it's-" Peter scrambles for words, before spitting venomously, "Its _bullshit!_ "

 _"Peter Benjamin Parker!"_  May calls out, enraged, just as Mr. Stark states "Woah, language!"

Peter doesn't care. He just huffs again, his body shaking with his unbridled rage. "It's true! You're jumping to conclusions, acting like I did something wrong when I _didn't even do anything!!_ "

"If you had let me talk for two seconds," Mr. Stark snaps at him, gaze full of irritation as he glares at Peter, hard and unforgiving. "You'd know that we wanted to hear your side of the story before we made any decisions. Before we _jumped to conclusions._ "

Peter flinches, the same cold shame and guilt from earlier falling over him at the older man's words. Maybe it was Peter who had jumped to conclusions, who had made the assumptions. "O-Oh."

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. "Yeah, 'oh'."

 _"And we still do want to hear your side of the story."_  May's robotisized voice adds on quickly. _"But we will_ definitely _be coming back to that attitude of yours, young man."_

Peter flinches again, all of his anger gone, only leaving overwhelming guilt. "Y-yeah. I- I'm sorry." He forces his gaze to the floor, ashamed.

He hears Mr. Stark sigh again, deep and long. "What happened, Pete?"

And he tells them. He tells them about the crowd circling him, about Cam insulting him, bullying him, about Harley rescuing him and getting beat up, about Peter pushing Cam away with a little too much force, all of it. By the end of it, he's drained, completely and utterly exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions he's felt today.  
  
"-And I think that's why I snapped at you guys, you know? It's just..." Peter rubs his eyes, sighing. "It's just been a really long day. I'm sorry." And he means it, heart heavy and full of shame.

 _"It's okay Peter."_  His aunt reassures, sounding just as tired as Peter feels, making his heart heavier with another strike of guilt. _"It's obvious that you weren't the culprit in all this. But you can't get upset at us like you did earlier again, okay? We didn't know the whole story, all we knew was what the school told us, that you got into a fight."_

Peter nods subconsciously, and hangs his head low, mumbling "I know, I'm sorry Aunt May, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark had been attentive throughout his entire speech, not saying anything but nodding in the right places and obviously listening to his every word. Now, he sent Peter a small smile, the tension from before dissipating into a fine mist, no longer a choking thick fog. "It's fine, Pete." He shakes his head and the smile fades just as quickly as it came. "So, what's the verdict Aunt Hottie?"

Peter's eyes widen, and his body tenses. They're still going to punish him?

 _"I think"_  His aunt starts cautiously, and Peter holds his breathe. _"That he's been punished enough. Two days suspension sounds like plenty for what he did, and I'm willing to let go of the use of attitude this time. He sounds like he regrets it enough."_

Peter lets out his breath, relieved, as Mr. Stark states "I agree. Maybe with some self control training, can't have him throwing bullies across the hall whenever he's upset. Even if you didn't mean it!" He cuts Peter off before he even speaks, his mouth opening and closing just as quick. Mr. Stark lets out a sigh before continuing. "I also agree with the attitude thing, though I won't be nearly as nice next time." He warns, and Peter shakes his head quickly, a small smile growing on his face.

"T-There won't be a next time, I promise. Thank you, both of you."

_"Well, I should be getting back, I've been on my break for a little longer than I should have. I'm picking you up after my shift, 'kay Peter? Love you."_

"Okay, love you too, Aunt May. See you later!"

"Bye, Aunt Hottie!" Mr. Stark says, growing a shit-eating grin as Peter glares at him for the nickname.

Peter hears May let out another sigh, this one sounds exasperated but amused, before responding "Goodbye, Tony." and hanging up.

A loud groan comes from Mr. Stark as he stands from his chair, walking over to Peter and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he stands as well, having sat down during his retelling of his day. "I'm so glad that's over with. I hate serious conversations. Did you know that? Now, you know."

Peter lets out a chuckle. "I know, Mr. Stark." He stares down at his shifting hands, before mumbling bashfully "Thank you, Tony. Really. You don't have to do all of this. Picking me up, the self control thing, any of it."

Mr. Stark freezes for a second, before continuing to walk out of the room, squeezing Peter to his side for a second. "It's nothing, Pete. I mean it." He pauses, grimacing slightly. "Okay, seriously though, enough serious mushy stuff. Wanna come down to the lab for a bit? I'm having a bit of trouble with the nanotech again, and I could really use that brain of yours on it."

Usually, the idea of helping Mr. Stark out would make him giddy and he'd jump at the chance, but right now, Peter just wants to go to his room and sleep for hours. "Uhm, a-actually, would it be okay if I were to go take a nap...? I-I'm really sorry, but a lot happened today and I'm really tired and-"

"Pete" Mr. Stark cuts him off, stopping his movement and turning to look Peter in the eye, his eyes soft. "It's alright. As you said, it's been a long day. Go rest, the lab isnt going anywhere. Come down when you wake, okay?"

"O-Okay, Mr. Stark. Thanks." Peter smiles brightly at him, his eyes drooping.

Mr. Stark shakes his head, walking to the elevator with a mutter under his breath of taking that word out of his vocabulary.

As he walks away, Peter, after chuckling in amusement at Mr. Stark antics, goes to his room, the third door down the hallway. It's huge compared to his room at the apartment, yet looks almost about the same. The walls are a bright blue, covered with nerdy posters of Star Wars and one of Iron Man that Mr. Stark wouldn't let him go without. Theres also shelves scattered on the walls, holding pictures of his family, his metals and trophies from Academic Decathelon, and finished Lego sets that him and Ned built together. There's a long desk against the wall that's made of floor to ceiling windows that Peter loves to do his homework on, and a huge walk-in closet beside the bunk bed, which is pressed in the right corner of the room. Peter flops into the bottom bunk of his bed, closing his eyes with a drawn out, comfortable sigh.

He would have fallen asleep that way, on his back above the covers, still in his school clothes, but just as he starts to drift off into the sweet land of unconsciousness, he feels a vibrate right below his right hip. He grumbles, grabbing the device blindly out of his pocket and holding it above his hand, squinting his eyes to see what had disturbed him. * _If it's Ned sending another meme I swear to god_ *

Aside from the fifteen or more missed calls from MJ and Ned, and the multitude of texts also from the pair (which Peter feels horrible about, of course they would worry when he didn't show up for class after lunch, he'll make it up to them later), the most recent text, the offender that had awoken him, was from an unknown number. Peter considers just leaving it be, his eyes heavy and hard to keep open, but he desides to check it anyways, just in case it was important or something. He opens his phone, and checks the message, only to almost drop it on his face in shock once he realizes who (he thinks) it's from.

**'hey, hope i didn't get you in trouble'**

* _Harley?_ *


	6. First Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter that's not all angst lol
> 
> I also realized that I should probably add a 'slow burn' tag to this because oh man is this becoming a slow burn. I didn't even mean for it to move this slowly but here we are whoops
> 
> EDIT: I just watched Iron Man 3! So I now know more about Harley's character, yay. I didn't realize he was such a tough ass lmao it's great. I love Harley. I don't think ill write him any different in this fic, at least for the moment but I may add some of that attitude in later on (especially when he meets Tony)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Harley falls gently onto the bed, letting out a groan as the throbbing in his head intensifies at the impact. They just got hom- back from the hospital, one he doesn't even remember going to. One minute, he was getting beat up against a locker and the next, he was lying on a hospital bed with the Davis's hovering over him and someone he didn't know beside them, a doctor checking up on him, he had learned afterwards. They had only been there for twenty minutes before he came to, apparently, and it only took another half an hour or so to figure out what was wrong with him. Why it felt like his head was filled with cotton balls but sharp cotton balls that stuck knifes into his brain every once in a while, or why everything felt slightly off kilter, why he felt really queasy and why he couldn't stand up without almost falling over due to dizziness. A mild concussion, the doctor had diagnosed, and, after fixing his broken nose and patching up his face however they could, they sent him 'home' with pain medication barely stronger than Tylenol and told him to rest for the rest of the week. * _If this is a mild concussion, I don't ever want to know what a full one feels like._ *

Harley felt awful. Physically, yes, definitely physically, but also emotionally. He felt so unbelievably _guilty._  He knew how much hospital bills cost, he had tried to pay them off first hand once upon a time, and he felt god awful knowing that hour or less he'd spend in that building had cost the Davis' thousands. Thousands they could have spend on fixing the kitchen, something he heard them talking about sometimes when he left the guest room, or on getting a hot tub, something they wanted.

But it was spend on him instead. Him, who was idiotic enough to fight against the bully of a boy he's been avoiding and treating like shit. Him, who couldnt even get a second hit in against said bully while getting pummeled to the ground. Him, who the Davis's only took in because of pity, because nobody wanted him, because he had nobody left. And the _last_  thing he had wanted to be on top of everything else he already was, was a burden, but here he was, being a burden anyways.

He swallows down another wave of nausea as a hand caresses against his forehead, brushing the hair out of his face. He looks to his left at Mrs. Davis. She is sat on her legs beside his bed, her short, curly light brown hair encasing her heart shaped face, and she's giving him a small smile, her dark blue eyes soft but also shadowed with... Concern? Nah, Harley must be kidding himself, it must be bitterness or something. Concern didn't make sense, why would she worry about someone that just cost them so much? He looks to the man standing in the doorway behind her, his tall bulkier figure intimidating to strangers (and kind of intimidating to Harley too), the kinder features of his face also darkened by the same emotion. But that doesn't make sense. Why would they care about someone like him, a _burden_  like him? He was a weight attached to their ankles, dragging them down, why would they care?

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

He flicks his gaze back to the woman, before shutting his eyes and swallowing again. * _God this nausea won't go away!_ * "'m okay. Be'er than before." It wasn't a lie, the pain meds were doing wonders with his headache to where he could actually think now (which was a gift and a curse), reducing it from the sharp agonizing pain to a lighter throbbing. It still kinda felt full of cotton balls though, but softer, fluffer ones instead of the sharp ones from earlier.

He hears a deeper sigh of relief come from further in the room as Mrs. Davis responds with "That's good, sweetpea, I'm glad." Heavy footsteps fill the room as Mr. Davis moves closer, and quiet whispers, murmurs that Harley can't hear, start up immediately after.

Then a rougher voice speaks up. "Are you up for talking, Harley?"

He opens his eyes (or eye, as one eye refuses to open even if the swelling has gone down a little) to blink up at Mr. Davis, still standing but next to Mrs. Davis now, much closer to Harley than he was before. His green eyes bore into Harley's, seeming harsh at first but full of worry and concern that Harley _still can't understand_.

He takes a second to gauge if he'll throw up the minute he opens his mouth, and finds that his stomach has _finally_ seemed to have settled for the moment. He starts to nod and regrets it immediately as the room spins and his head aches suddenly. He lets out another groan, feeling Mrs. Davis's hand still on his forehead, before he reassures her "I'm fine, 'm fine. Yeah, yeah I can talk."

Mrs. Davis looks up to Mr. Davis, and they seem to have a conversation with their eyes before she turns back to Harley. "Are you sure? We can always talk later if you aren't feeling up to it."

"No, no, I'm a'right I promise." He just wants to get this over with. Once they realize what he did, how awful he is, how much of a deadweight he is, they'll kick him out in no time flat. He's already planning on how he'll pack, what to put where and into which bag. Now that he's in New York though, will he go to a New York facility, or will he go back to his old one in Tennessee? * _Guess I'm going to find out_ *.

There's another pause, as if she's still considering whether or not its a good idea. Mr. Davis breaks the silence, sighing lightly before sitting at the bottom of the bed, beside Harley's legs, body turned towards the boy. "What happened, Harley?"

Harley furrows his eyebrows, ignoring the shot of pain it caused. "Didn' the school tell you?"

Mrs. Davis' hand moves up his head, playing with his hair gently. Harley freezes up. He used to love getting his hair played with, but now, the act was so obviously _maternal_ that Harley wants to scream. Mrs. Davis seems to sense his extreme discomfort, as she immediately stops and removes her hand, placing it in her lap, her features dropping slightly. "They told us that you started a fight, but that... Doesn't seem like you, Harley." A wave of bitterness flows over him, and he wants to tell her * _you don't know me_ * but she continues before he can say anything. "We just want to know the whole story, that's all."

Harley swallows down his frustration, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes before going into the story. * _Better to just get it out of the way._ * "It was just after lunch. I was plannin' on just going to class, bu' I heard commotion down the hallway, near my frien-" he pauses, frowning slightly. * _Near someone I wish was my friend but messed up horribly with's locker. Yeah, can't say that._ * "Near someone I know's locker." He continues lamely. "I saw that he was being bullied by someone, and I couldn' let it happen, you know? So I went over to try and help, try to deescalate the situation, and we were abou' to walk away, to leave it alone when he-"

Harley tenses up, his not-bruised eye opening wide. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. He had forgotten about the slur, forgotten the reason he threw the punch in the first place. He feels like he just got a bucket of ice water dropped over his head. He- he couldn't tell them what Cameron said, he couldn't tell them why he had reacted the way he did, he- he wasn't ready! He wasn't ready for them to know that part of him, not now! * _Not ever! I didn't even get to tell mo-_ * He stops that train wreck of a thought _as soon as possible_.

"He...?" Mr. Davis pushes gently, grabbing his leg in what Harley assumes was supposed to be a comforting act, but it only worked to make Harley feel more trapped. He couldn't tell them, he couldn't.

"He- He said something." Harley whispers quietly, before tacking on a little too quickly, too loudly, "I don't wanna say what!"

"Okay, it's okay, you don't have to." Mrs. Davis reassures him, and Harley immediately relaxes, letting go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He didn't notice the curious, worried look the Davis' shared through his relief. He didn't have to tell them, _thank god._

Harley nods, taking another deep breathe, his head starting to hurt more, throbbing harder than earlier and his stomach is starting to churn again. He ignores it for now. "He said... _something_ , and I- I couldn't let it go. I didn't mean for it to turn into a fight but i-it was really insulting to me and to Peter, and I just _couldn't_  let it go." He lowers his eyes to the blanket underneath his body, twirling the ends of it with his fingers. "'m sorry."

Theres a moment of silence, and Harley thinks this is it. The moment they realize the reason why they're thousands of dollars in the hole is because of one stupid word and a broken child who couldn't control himself. The moment they realize he isn't worth their struggles and turbulations. The moment they call the facilities and tell them to take him back. The moment they tell him to leave and never come back. He gets it, he does. He'd kick himself out too.

He keeps his eyes down, waiting for the blow, but it never comes. Instead, he feels a hand grab his, squeezing it gently. "I'm proud of you, Harley."

* _...what?_ * Harley gaze flickers between the couple in confusion, in shock. Proud of him? Why would they be proud of him for hitting someone, for getting beaten up, for wasting their money? "...what?" He echoes his thoughts, unable to comprehend anything else.

The pair smiled at him, Mr. Davis letting out a soft chuckle. "We're proud of you, bud." He nudges his legs as he says that, like a proud fath- * _stop thinking like that_ *. "You stood up to someone you knew was doing something wrong, and tried to stop it without violence first. You did good."

"B-But I got into a fight, I got hurt, I-I cost you guys a fortune!" He sputters out, so unbelievably confused. It doesn't get it, doesn't get why they aren't mad at him. * _They aren't kicking me out?_ *

Mrs. Davis's eyes soften even more, her thumb rubbing against the back of Harley's hand. "That's not for you to worry about, sweetheart."

* _Not for me to worry about? But I caused it! I'm the reason you're in this mess!_ * He goes to tell them that, but Mr. Davis cuts him off before he can.

"Don't worry about that." He looks Harley deep in the eyes, almost staring into his soul, lush green intense and full of honesty. " _We're proud of you, Harley._ "

Harley doesn't know what it is, the intensity of his eyes, the way he emphasizes what he says, the way hes still holding onto his leg, or the way Mrs. Davis is still holding onto his hand gently, soothingly, but Harley feels a pleasant warmth flowing through him. He _believes_  him. Mr. Davis _means_ it. He isn't getting sent away again, he isn't going back yet. They don't hate him. They _care_  about him. And, Harley realizes its the first time he's felt loved in a long ass time.

A small smile finds its way onto his face, body relaxing against the bed as he stares up at the ceiling. He feels so lucky, so _happy_ right now. They aren't mad, he isn't going away. * _Maybe they actually want me._ *

Mrs. Davis copies his bright smile, amd brushes the hair out of his face again before kissing his forehead lightly. And Harley lets her, relishing in the unfamiliar fuzzy feelings that are blooming in his chest "Now, get some rest okay, sweetie?"

"I will." He murmurs, and she stands, looking back at him one last time in the doorway before leaving the room, her soft footsteps fading in the distance.

Harley feels a pat on his leg, and turns his head to look at Mr. Davis as he stands as well. "Need anything before I go?"

Harley nods once, ignoring the pain it caused again. There's something he's gotta do. "Can you get something from my backpack? A small slip of paper at the bottom."

Mr. Davis gives him a curious look, but nods and tells him he'll be back before leaving to retrieve the item. When he returns, he has an amused grin on his face. "Got a girls number already, huh?"

Harley snorts. "Nah, just someone I met."

Mr. Davis raises an disbelieving eyebrow, giving him the slip. "Whatever you say, bud. I'm not judging if it is though." He gives Harley a wink that makes Harley want to burst out laughing, before shuffling out of the room, shutting the door behind him. * _Oh, if only you knew._ *

He grabs his phone, opening it and putting Peter's number in it before pausing, his wide grin falling slightly. * _What if he doesn't want to hear from me? I won't blame him, I probably got him in trouble._ * He bites his bottom lip, before deciding screw it, writing out a simple message and sending it quickly before he can overthink it like he always does.

**'hey, hope i didn't get you in trouble.'**

He places his phone on his chest and waits, his heart beating faster and faster the more he waits. * _What if I did get him in trouble? Then he might not be able to text back, he may have gotten his phone taken away. Why would he want to talk to you anyways? You've been treating him like crap for the past week, he probably hates you, god Harley why would you even think he'd want to text you, you're so stupid-_ *

 _Ding!_  Harley snaps out of it and snatches up his phone. _**'Harley? Is that you?'**_

* _Duh. Of course he wouldn't answer right away from an unknown number, you dumbass._ * Harley almost smacks himself in the head in his idiocy, but realizes that would probably be a bad idea with a literal concussion. **'yeah it's me. sorry for today'**

Another ding, right away this time _thankfully_ , so Harley's mind can't go rampant in the wait. _**'Holy shit don't apologize! Are you okay??'**_

A smile grows back on to his face at the concern. **'yeah im alright just a concussion'**

_**'Just a concussion?!? Harley, that's not "alright"!!'** _

Harley snorts. He can almost imagine Peter telling him this, arms flailing, voice higher, eyes wide. **'im okay really. Head just hurts a little dont worry about it'**

_**'You got into a fight because of me, of course I'm going to worry about it.'** _

Harley's eyebrows furrow, before he winces. Ow. He keeps forgetting that he shouldn't move his face much. * _Peter doesn't feel bad for this... Does he?_ *

**'please tell me you dont feel guilty about a fight i caused'**

There's a pause, and Harley heart drops, knowing what the answer will be. Of course he'd blame himself for something that wasn't his fault, that's just who Peter is. * _Remind you of someone?_ *

_**'You fought my bully, because of me.'** _

**'i wasn't gonna stand by and let it happen'**

_**'Still.'** _

Harley groans at Peter's stubbornness, his head starting to throb worse. Pain meds must be wearing off. **'well i treated you like shit for the past week so lets call it even'** Harley pauses, then adds on quickly, **'sorry about that by the way'**

Another moment of pause. Harley sees the speech bubble on his screen, showing Peter writing. It disappears and reappears a few times, before it sends, _**'Its fine. Even now, remember?'**_

Harley sighs quietly, guilt adding to the churning in his stomach. **'im still sorry'**

_**'And I'm still sorry for the fight. We're both sorry. But I forgive you, and you forgive me I think, so let's just let it go, hey?'** _

Something uncurls inside of Harley at his words, and he rereads 'i forgive you' over and over again. * _He forgives me. He forgives me._ * Smile replanted on his face, Harley responds back. **'yeah, i think i can do that'**

_**'Good, you better! Now, go rest techie, I'm sure you need it.'** _

His heart swells at 'techie' (* _He really does forgive me_ *), and Harley longs to continue talking to Peter, to keep texting him as long as possible, afraid that if he stops Peter won't want to talk to him anymore, but he's right. Harley's head is starting to become unbearable again, the knifes starting up their murder spree of his brain and his stomach twisting into knots. **'okay, i will. talk to you later?'**

His heart beat is loud in his ear, and he can't tell if it's from his upcoming migraine or his nerves at the question. His eyelids start to feel heavy, and his limbs are feeling the tug of exhaustion again, but Harley stays awake, needing to know the answer.

Another ding, and Harley checks it, sighing in relief, smiling from ear to ear. _**'Of course. Sleep well!'**_

Harley places his phone on his chest and allows his eyes to close, giving into the exhaustion, smile wide on his face, feeling lighter than he has in a long long time.


	7. First Perplexity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im honestly not proud of this chapter. I feel like its all over the place, and like some parts got away from me but I've already spent way too much time writing it and I feel like the more I look it over to try and fix it, the more I'm going to pick it apart.
> 
> So, here it is. In all its crazy, potentially confusing glory. Lol. And maybe I'm being hard on myself idfk
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit better, and come out faster, but we'll see. Im sorry.
> 
> I hope you guys can still enjoy!

"So, let me get this straight. You threw Cameron Moore down the hall, in front of a crowd, with your _Spider-Man powers_."

Well, when she says it like that, it makes Peter sound like an idiot. "Accidentally! I wasn't thinking-"

"Dude, that's awesome!"

Perer runs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not awesome, Ned."

"Wha- why not?!? You finally stood up to him, showed him what you can do. Maybe he'll stop picking on you now!"

"Yeah, I showed him... And the _rest of the school_ what I can do."

There's a pause. "...and?"

Peter groans loudly, falling backwards dramatically, his bed bouncing at the sudden movement. "I showed them my powers, Ned! Peter Parker can't throw someone down the hall!"

"...ooooh."

"Yeah, oh." He sighs. * _God, I sound like Mr. Stark. Speaking of him..._ * "Mr. Stark's gonna give me self control training because of it."

"Really?!? That's so cool!" Ned gushes, and Peter has to chuckle lightly at his contagious enthusiasm, his previous anxiousness fading away, mostly.

"Yeah, I guess so."

After talking to Harley for a bit, and taking his longer than expected cat nap right after, Peter's phone had been spammed with text after text, call after call from his friends, wondering what the hell had happened to him and if he was okay. Which was fair enough, seeing as Peter had, in their eyes, vanished out of thin air after lunch, nowhere to be found, and not answering their texts which he tried to always do. Ned had apparently lost his shit, worried that Peter had been called out on a mission and got hurt or killed or something, and MJ had spent the rest of the day calming him down, while also doing her own worrying at the same time.

To say they had been mad when he called them, in the middle of last period, to tell them that he hadn't answered any of their texts and calls because he went home and fell asleep was... _quite_  the understatement. Ned had started to full blown tell him off, and MJ had become silent angry which was _never_  good when it came to MJ, so he had quickly explained to them that he had gotten into a fight, had been very freaked out and emotional, and that _that_ was why he had fallen asleep. Their anger faded quickly after that, their concern and care for him outweighing it as they asked him a million and one questions about what happened, how it happened, why it happened. He had told them to come over after school and that he'd answer all of their questions then, making sure to ask Mr. Stark if that was okay first obviously (because he knows that they said they werent going to ground him or anything but he wasnt sure if inviting his friends over the same day as his fight was a little _too_  soon. Apparently it wasn't, as Mr. Stark had given him the okay).

And now, here they were, all sprawled out in Peter's bedroom.

Ned was sitting criss cross applesauce on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed, right next to the headboard, his eyes big and full of awe. It was as if he's never met Mr. Stark or the other Avengers (even though Peter has introduced him to them many, many times), still full of childlike wonder at the idea of Peter practicing with his childhood heroes, even if that was kind of normal to Peter now. It really helped put into perspective just how crazy Peter's life was. Not only was he Spider-Man, but he was also very close to, almost family with, most if not all of the Avengers and was practically Tony Stark's kid, almost getting punished by him and everything. It really humbled Peter to see Neds reactions, and made him realize just how lucky he really was.

MJ was sat on the floor across from the bed, leaned up against the wall with a pillow behind her back, legs stretched out in front of her with an incredulous look on her face, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing and/or seeing. Like she was about to bring Peter back to earth, back to reality. She was always the realist of the group. "Peter, you're forgetting that you _used your powers_  in a _crowd of people_ , people who don't know you're Spider-Man. They may get suspicious and start suspecting things..."

Yup, he was right. Peter sighs, his mood deflating. Not that he blamed her for that, she was right. That was another thing Peter had learned early on in their friendship. MJ had tried to warned him about a girl that he had liked, saying she was trying to use him to get to know Mr. Stark (as many people had done once news of his internship had spread around the school), and a few weeks later, Peter had overheard her telling her friends that she didn't even like him, she just wanted to meet the Avengers, and Peter had broke it off with her immediately after. MJ had been right then, as she was every time afterwards. MJ was _always_  right.

But Peter had a plan for this. Kinda. He had thought about it a _l_ _ittle_ bit before his nap. "I know, I know. But I can always blame it on the heat of the moment, on adrenaline. People can do some crazy things when they're running on adrenaline, right?"

"Oh! Like the mom that picked a car up to save her son caught underneath it!"

"Exactly!" His arms flail upwards in triumph, grinning at Ned from his spot on the bed beside the boy, laying on his back with his legs entangled in Ned's.

MJ seems to think for a second before shrugging, seeming to accept it, going back to her usual nonchalance. "Fair point. Back to your story."

"Oh yeah." He blinks. He almost forgot he hadn't finished the story. Whoops. "Anyways, I pushed Cam away, and then I go to check on Harley, who fell to the ground when Cam dropped him, and he was completely out of it." Peter frowns, his voice lowering slightly, getting lost in the memory. "His nose was still bleeding, obviously broken, and he had a black eye, but that wasn't what worried me. He wasn't answering me, and it seemed like he was looking right through me rather than at me, like he was dazed. It..." He starts picking at his nails subconsciously, a nervous habit of his. "Really freaked me out, honestly. Like, I should be used to stuff like that, I'm Spider-Man, I see that kinda thing every day, but it was still..."

"Scary."

Peter turns his head, resting his cheek on his sheets as he looks over to MJ and nods at her once. "Yeah. Scary." He turns his head back to stare at the bottom of the top bunk again. "Then he passed out completely, and Mr. Morita and the nurse showed up. They called an ambulance to take care of him, and brought me to the office where Mr. Stark picked me up. It was really crazy."

There's a second of silence, a rare occurrence with their friend group, before Ned breaks it with a soft "Was he okay after?"

Peter's lips tilt up slightly, trying for a smile but ending up in a grimance. "Yeah, thankfully. He said it was just a concussion, a mild one I think."

Ned smiles sadly. "That's good. I mean, not good, but like, better than it could have been. Not that a concussion is a good thing but-"

"I don't get it." MJ cuts him off before he starts to ramble, and shifts slightly, probably uncomfortable from sitting on the ground for so long. "He avoided you for a week, then he randomly gets in a fight for you? Why?"

Peter wants to snort, * _Isn't that the question?_ *, but he just shakes his head and shrugs, answering honestly.  "I don't know. Harley is..." Peter tilts his head slightly, biting his lip. "...interesting."

Ned raises an eyebrow, before wiggling them around suggestively. "Interesting, huh?"

Peter snorts, sitting up, untangling their legs and crossing his before grabbing the pillow next to him and throwing it at the laughing boy. "Not like that! He just..." He pauses, trying to think of the words. "There's something about him. He doesn't act like anyone else I've ever seen before. He's different, _intriguing_. He has to have a story, a reason for the way he acts, the things he does..." Peter narrows his eyes, staring intently down at his hands, his thumb attacking the side of his pointer finger. "I wanna figure it out. Figure _him_ out."

MJ lets out a sigh. "Is that a good idea?"

Peter's eyebrows furrow, confused, looking up to her. "What do you mean?"

"He's been acting sketchy ever since he came to our school. He ran off in the middle of our lunch, treated you like shit and then avoided you for a week. Whatever story, whatever _reason_ he has for doing that is obviously not good news, Peter. Do you really need that in your life? What if it's like Liz all over again?"

Peter flinches slightly at her name, before defending her. "That wasn't her fault, MJ."

"I know, but her dad was still a villain anyways. What if it's like that? Even if it isn't, what if he's not a good guy? What if he uses you, Peter?"

"He won't." Peter snaps back, confident, feeling a sudden burning in his chest. "He wouldn't." He puts his gaze back to his hands. * _He wouldn't... Would he? No, he wouldn't. Why am I so sure about that?_ *

MJ just stares at him, an unidentifiable emotion swirling in her eyes. "I'm just trying to warn you, Peter. Just in case."

Her voice is hard, and Peter feels guilt wash over him like a wave, the fire fading out. "I know, I know, you're trying to help and protect me, I know, I'm sorry, I just-" He pauses again, digging his nail down too hard, causing his hang nail to bleed. Peter exhales before starting again, talking slow, thinking through his words. "He texted me earlier and apologized for avoiding me, for acting the way he did, and he seemed genuine about it. I don't feel like he did what he did to hurt me, or with malicious intent at all. I just... I dont know, I have a hunch, I guess. Something is telling me that he isn't a bad guy, just..." He remembers Harley's hunched figure, his anxiousness on his first day, the storm brewing in his eyes. "...sad. Misunderstood. Like he needs a friend." He sighs lightly. "I know I'm forgiving him quickly but I just- I _need_  to do this. I need to help him if I can, I just have to. _But_  I'll make sure to be careful, and if he does anything else to hurt me, than I'll let it go, I promise."

He looks back up from his hands, his gaze flickering between Ned and MJ as they start at one another, seemingly having a conversation with their eyes. MJ then glances to Peter, and nods once, accepting what he said, while a cheeky grin grows on Ned's face.

"Are you sure he's not like Liz? Cause that sounded awfully like the poetic things you used to tell me while swooning over her." Peter grabs the same pillow he threw and hits Ned over the head with it, causing Ned to shriek, laughing loudly, lighting up the heavy atmosphere of the room almost immediately.

Peter tries stares at him incredulously, but his face betrays him with a big smile. "I barely know the guy, Ned, that's why we're _having_  this conversation. And I'm _straight_." He hears a snort come from beside him, and he glares at MJ, but it has no heat in it. "I am!"

She cocks an eyebrow, a light grin on her face. "Whatever you say, Parker."

He flops backwards again with another loud groan, getting a "dramatic much?" from MJ in response. He just narrows his eyes more at her again, making her laugh, Ned following shortly after. Peter laughs along too, but he still feels slightly... off. He knows that she was just trying to protect him, saying all that about Harley, and that they was just teasing about the thing afterwards. But then, why does he feel so damn defensive? So uncomfortable, so put on the spot, so... _ashamed_? * _Ashamed? What are you even on about? It's just been a long day, your emotions are just out of wack today, you're fine._ * He convinces himself, trying to shake the feelings away. Yeah thats what it was. Just a long day. Nothing more.

"So I assume you aren't in trouble." Ned changes the subject once their laughter has settled, even if a few chuckles still escape him, and Peter is _extremely_  thankful for the change.

"Nah," Peter shrugs. "Two days suspension, but that's it. Aunt May and Mr. Stark agreed that that was enough."

"They punished you together?"

"You're going to be gone for two days?!?"

Peter winces slightly as they both speak at the same time, both with decently loud volume, making his sensitive ears ring a little. "Yeah, Mr. Stark said that they agreed to discuss my punishments together whenever I get in trouble." Peter's face scrunches up at that, before turning to Ned and rolling his eyes. "And you'll be fine, Ned. You'll still have MJ."

Peter sees a teasing glint in Ned's eyes before he groans loudly. "Man, that's even worse!"

He lets out a harsh laugh as MJ just stares at him emotionlessly before turning to Peter and competely ignoring him. "Stark has a word in your punishments now?" When Peter nods, she snorts in amusement. "Wow. He really is like your dad."

Peter's face flushes, and looks down at his hands, no longer fidgeting, with a small genuine smile on his face. Mr. Stark and him have never really admitted their relationship change to one another, but they never tried to hide it either. A ruffle of the hair here, a "I'm proud of you, kid." there. Peter asking about life advice, instead of just superhero advice, and Mr. Stark answering as honestly as he can. Peter going to the tower every Tuesday and Thursday, and staying over every second weekend, sometimes for his internship but mostly just to hang out. Mr. Stark buying back the tower at all, just to be closer to him (even though he said it was for storage and workspace for employees). They never admitted it, but Mr. Stark really was becoming like a dad to Peter, and he knows that Mr. Stark sees him as a son as well.

Speak of the devil, there's a knock on the door. "Pete, your aunts here to pick you up!"

"Shit! I forgot about that!" He curses loudly, scrambling to get up off the bed.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that!" Mr. Stark yells through the door, but Peter can hear his amusement through the stern tone.

"Sorry!" He calls back, wincing slightly at his slip up, before grabbing his backpack, phone and whatever else he needs to bring home, turning back to his friends once he's done, his bag slung over his shoulder. "You guys need rides back to your houses?"

"Yeah, my mom doesn't get home for another hour or so, and dad's out of town." Ned looks sheepish at the request even though he knows its fine, Peter's told him that its fine many a times before, while MJ just shrugs and says "If you don't mind."

He opens the door to his room, walking to the living room while talking, gesturing at them to follow. "I'm sure May will be fine to give you guys a run."

"And if not, I can. I _am_ still here, after all." Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow at him from where he's stood by the island in the kitchen, leaning back, his signature grin slapped in place.

Peter snorts. "Like I could ever forget."

Mr. Starks mouth slacks in mock shock, tilting his head with a glint in his eyes. "Is that more attitude I hear, mister?"

"Nooo," He whistled innocently, picking up his pace a little bit, trying to make his escape to the elevator.

"Ah ah ah! Not so fast! You're forgeting something!" He hears him call from behind him and groans, turning around and whining, slightly embarrassed.

"You're gonna see me tomorrow!"

"Yeah, actually, about that. You have work to do tomorrow, 9-5."

"What!? I normally do my work on Thursday!"

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know kid. But I have be 'responsible' according to Pepper, whatever that means, so I have to make sure your suspension isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and more like an actual punishment for you. Ergo, working tomorrow instead of the lab."

Peter whines again, throwing his head back. "But that's going to be so _boring_."

Mr. Stark chuckles, going to stand next to him and ruffling his hair fondly. "You'll survive, kid. Now, you know the drill." He holds out his arms wide, and Peter sighs, exasperated, face probably bright red with embarassment as he wraps his arms around the man, burying his face in his chest as Mr. Stark laughs, squeezing him tight for a few seconds before patting his back once. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

He lifts his head as he exits the hug, glancing back at his friends to see MJ not really paying attention, and Ned smiling brightly at him, seeming happy for him more than anything. Peter's embarassment lessens, a small smile growing on his face as he murmurs "I guess not."

" _Mr. Parker, Ms. Parker seems to be getting impatient._ "

"Shiiii-oot, gotta go, love you, see you tomorrow, bye!" He storms out of the room, his friends in tow, hearing Mr. Starks laughter just as the elevator doors close behind them.

" _Love you_." MJ mocks him lightheartedly, and Peter's face flushes again, shoving her with his shoulder, causing the trio to burst into chuckles, the joyful sound echoing in the small compact space.

\--

Harley Keener 

**'favorite holiday?'**

_**'Christmas, duh! The bright lights, families coming together for usually the first time in a while, giving gifts and making people happy, how could you not love Christmas??'** _

**'you seem like a Christmas guy lol mine is Halloween'**

_**'Well, you seem like a Halloween guy. Let me guess, you like scaring people and getting candy?'** _

**'i like the colors too! And the weather'**

_**'you like a bunch of rainy, cloudy, miserable days back to back?'** _

**'well, no lol is that what it's like here?'**

**'In Tennessee, the weather's just getting colder, so it's the perfect temperature, sweather weather, and the leaves all turn browns and yellows, slowly covering the ground over time it's amazing'**

_**'Pretty much. We get a few good days but not many. And that sounds beautiful wow. I wish we had more trees here, like you can go to Central Park to see that, but it isn't really the same, I'd guess'** _

_**'favorite movie?'** _

**'Cowboys Vs. Aliens'**

Peter snorts out loud at that.

_**'Ironic that the cowboy likes a movie about cowboys'** _

**'Theres aliens in it too! Also, I'm a cowboy? Also also, let me guess, yours is Star Wars?'**

_**'um yeah you're from Tennessee, therefore you're a cowboy. Duh'** _

_' **And it's Tangled actually, thank you very much'**_

**'ohkay then do you think everybody in Tennessee wears the boots and hat, with a piece of straw in their mouths saying "yeehaw" every chance they get?'**

**'actually that does sound like rose hill nevermind'**

Peter has to snuff a laugh, holding a hand to his mouth for a second to keep himself quiet. He takes a deep breath, calming down slightly before reading the newest text.

**'And that surprises me but also doesn't all at the same time. I can almost imagine you being the only adult in a theatre full of kids on opening night of a new Disney movie'**

_**'Yes, yes I do. Got a problem with that? And excuse you, there's usually at least 10 teenagers and a lot of parents in the theatre too so meh'** _

There's a pause in the texts, and Peter hopes that it's because he made Harley laugh, that soft, quiet but still existent, breathy laugh of his that Peter only heard once or twice but can still hear clearly in his head. Before he can dwell on _why_ that specific sound stayed in his head, a new message pops up.

**'sorry. I forgot about the parents that were /forced/ to go see the movies by their children being with you my bad my bad lol'**

Peter does laugh at that, trying to keep quiet, trying to make sure she doesn't hear, but failing miserably.

Only when Pepper looks up at him from her desk, her eyes stern, does he go silent, freezing, eyes wide. "Peter, are you done your work?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, but he knows better, can hear the slight venom encasing her words, and he flinches, knowing he's in some shit. "...nooo?"

"Then why are you on your phone?" Her tone is still sickly sweet but her eyes narrow and sharpen, daring him to lie.

He gulps. "U-Uhm I-" He looks down at the paperwork on his desk, work she had given him to file away, and murmurs lowly "I got bored. I'm sorry."

Filing paperwork was the _worst_ part of his internship. Usually his internship is so much more fun, consisting of him at his own desk, brainstorming ideas and products that could be used for Stark Industries, much like the other interns that work there, or of him getting out and about, following Pepper around to meetings whenever they're in town, and helping her out with the business side of SI, _un_ like the other interns there. And he usually loved both sides of it, adored the Intership and it's promise of doing a job he loved in the future, but this part of it, this one aspect of it, he absolutely _hated_ with all of his being.

Which was why he had been texting Harley instead of actually doing what he was supposed to. Nevermind how much he actually was _enjoying_ chatting with Harley, getting to know him more through their random game of 20 questions that they had started after Harley texted him earlier that morning. That was just an added bonus to avoiding his work.

He hears her sigh, and lowers his head even more, ashamed, but when she speaks up again, her voice sounds genuinely soft, caring "I know its boring, Peter, but it needs to be done. You know that."

"I know. Im sorry." He repeats, and he does mean it. He does feel bad for making her upset, for disappointing her, even if he would rather shred himself in the shredder sat next to him than to actually do the filing.

"You know, it is almost 2 o'clock, I think I could use a lunch break pretty soon. I know a place down the road that sells the most amazing pasta, and I wouldn't mind having some company..."

He lifts his eyes to look at her now, seeing her blue eyes gentle and a soft, welcoming smile on her face. He smiles back, shyly, uncertain. "R-really? Are you sure?"

She cocks an eyebrow, her face brimming with amusement. "Of course! _If_  you get your filing done by then."

He nods enthusiastically, a wide grin splitting his face. "Of course! Thanks, Pepper!!" He chirps, rushing to put the pages together, to place them in their specific piles, sending others pages flying all over the place.

She lets out a laugh at his antics. "Take your time, Peter, there's no rush."

"Yeah. Right." He blinks, staring at the mess, before looking at her sheepishly.

They work quietly for a while, Peter putting things away, slowly this time, and sneaking a text to Harley when Pepper wasn't looking, just to let him know that he won't be responding for a bit, while Pepper clacks away on her computer, most likely writing emails to other companies they have deals with or are considering making deals with.

After ten minutes or so, Pepper speaks up again. "So, who were you talking to?"

"Hmm?" He looks up, barely hearing her as he slowly came back to reality from being in the zone, and from being in his own head.

"Who were you texting earlier?"

There's a teasing glint in her eyes that Peter barely notices as he looks back down at his papers. "Oh, just someone from school." He murmurs, still slightly out of it, his hands placing a pile of papers, receipts, in its proper drawer of the metal filing cabinet beside Pepper's desk.

"Someone from school, huh? What's her name?"

Even her voice is teasing now, which literally makes no sense, but Peter just ignores it for the moment, not even registering that she had said what's  _her_  name. "Harley." He waves a hand behind him, over his shoulder, still fidgeting with the cabinet. "He's the kid that got in the fight for me."

"Oh!" This time he makes sure to look over his shoulder at her, her face showing her shock proudly (* _why is she so shocked?_ *), her eyes wide, her mouth slacked slightly. Seeing Pepper, usually so full of confidence, caught off guard by something, something _he_  said specifically, makes Peter extremely uneasy.

He tilts his head, showing his confusion, something else burning low in his chest, eerily similar to what he felt with MJ the day before, making him even _more_  uneasy. "Yeaaah? Is that an issue?" It comes out a little sharper than expected.

"No no! I just- I didn't realize- I mean, I shouldn't have assumed-" She blinks, before clearing her throat and turning back to her computer, seemingly trying to hide her embarassment? Shock? Peter is so confused. "...How is he doing?" She settles on after a few seconds of extremely awkward silence.

* _...What is happening?_ * "He's good." Peter speaks slowly, turning back to the cabinet as well but not moving, not working like he was before. "He has a small concussion, but aside from that he's fine."

"Should he be texting then? Phones are hard on your eyes normally, much less after a concussion." He can tell she's trying to change the subject, but Peter's too lost to try and stop her. He's honestly not sure he wants to know what that was all about, anyways.

"Yeah I know, I tried telling him that but he said he was fine, that it didn't hurt that much." He rolls his eyes, a smile growing on his face without realizing it. "But I delayed my texts every once in a while to make sure he took breaks throughout the day, even if he didn't realize it."

There's a small pause, and Peter takes that as an end to the conversation, continuing where he left off, now placing copies of emails where they usually go, on the top shelf of the cabinet.

But apparently, Pepper wasn't done, because of course she wasn't. "...you said you met him in school?"

He stops again, his eyes narrowing slightly, making him glare subconsciously at the cabinet. * _What is this, an interrogation? Maybe she's just curious, Peter, don't be rude._ * "Yeah, he was new to the school, moved here from Tennessee, so Mr. Morita wanted me to show him around."

"Tennessee? That's quite a ways away. Why did they move? Did he say? Family want a change or?"

Peter blinks. Huh. He actually doesn't know why he came to New York. You'd think that'd be the first thing you'd ask someone after finding out where they came from, 'hey, why did ya move here?', but nope. Not Peter, apparently. "...I actually don't know. I never asked." He glaces at his phone, still placed face down on top of the small plastic desk he normally sits at when working with Pepper. "I might ask him later."

"You should! I'd love to know."

"Me too." He murmurs quietly, turning back to his work as there's another lull in the conversation. Peter can feel Peppers gaze burning into his back as he works, so he knows it won't last long, and feels slight irritation at her insistence. Why does she keep asking questions? What more does she want to know?

It's like this for a few minutes, and Peter is just about to lose his sanity when she _finally_  pipes back up, but what she says completely throws Peter for a loop. "Peter, you know I accept you no matter what, right?

He flinches, his hand hitting against the cold metal with a slight _bang_ , heart racing for literally no reason, face flushing for _even more of no reason, *what the heck why am I blushing-_ *

"What?" He speaks breathlessly, incredulously, so fricken _confused_ , turning around completely to stare at her, eyes wide. "Y-yeah? I know? _Why?_ " * _Where did that come from?!?_ *

She smiles at him, almost sympathetic, light blue eyes like the oceans waves, calm and soothing. Her voice is extremely soft as she reassures him, "Just wanted to make sure you knew, that's all."

He blinks at her multiple times, eyebrows furrowed, mouth gaping slightly, before he stammers out "O-okay then, yeah, yeah, I- I know."

Her voice softens even more, as if she's talking to a kicked puppy. "That's good, Peter. I just wanted to make sure."

He nods shakily, quickly turning back to his work, the filing seeming very interesting all of a sudden, wanting his mind to be on _anything_  else other than the implications of that sentence, feeling so completely _uncomfortable_ even though he has _no reason to be,_ * _what is going on with me?_ * He tries to focus back on his work, but his hands are shaking and his heart is still pounding out of his chest and his brain is still going at a mile a minute and-

He stops and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Its fine. This is fine. You are fine. There's nothing wrong. * _Then why do I feel so weird, so freaked out-_ * There's nothing wrong. Focus on that. Nothing wrong. It's okay. * _You are okay._ *

He continues his self reassurances, working robotically until suddenly there's no more paper in front of him to file, and his hands aren't shaking anymore, his heart back to it's normal beat and his mind is... still racing but that's normal too.

"You finished up over there?" Pepper calls to him, her voice back to it's chipper, confident self.

Perfect timing. "Yeah, just finished."

He stands up as she does, smiling slightly, crooked, shaky, up at her as she walks by him, grabbing her bright red coat off of the coat hanger by the door of the room and putting it over herself before grabbing the scarf placrd underneath it. "Then come on, slowpoke, I'm starving!"

He races over to grab his coat, a simple black, slightly fuzzy hand me down he got from his uncle a long long time ago, and holds the door open for her, laughing lightly at her exclamation of "what a gentleman!" as she walks through. He puts the cost on, shoving hid phone in his pocket as he follows her through and shuts the door behind him, catching up to her, walking by her side, shoving _that_  conversation and all of his feelings about it into a deep dark box in the corner of his mind. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

It's not like it meant anything, anyways.


	8. First Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally updating this, woah  
> Sorry for the delay, I wrote a long ass oneshot about Harley and his daddy issues and it took up a lot of my time lol
> 
> But now I'm solely focusing on this fic, so updates should (hopefully) be much faster!
> 
> If you're reading this, thanks for sticking with me and continuing to read this fic, even through the delays! I appreciate every single one of you 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! :)

Harley lets out a long, low sigh, hearing the bell ring for second period. * _I'm gonna be late for that class now too. Greeeeaat._ *

He had just spent the morning in Principal Morita's office, recalling _again_ what had happened Monday prior. He had thought that the other kids involved (Peter) would have told him the story, and apparently they had, but Mr. Morita had wanted to 'hear his side of the story' too. So, Harley had told him as much of the truth as he could muster (he still couldn't/didn't want to talk about why the word Cameron had said bothered him so much), and, Mr. Mortia, while sympathetic to his situation, had explained that the school had harsh rules on fights and that he was to have after school detention for the rest of the week. Like the literally concussion and broken nose Harley had received due to the fight wasn't enough of a punishment.

He gets it, he does. It's school rules, but it's still kinda bullshit.

It wasn't like the past week he had off was a _vacation_  for him. Sure, he had gotten it off school, but it wasn't a fun week, that's for sure.

His concussion symptoms had lasted the first few days, four to be exact, but those four had been the worse. The Davis's had hovered over him, making sure he was alright and caring for a reason Harley _still_ couldn't understand, and he had, obviously, felt like shit the entire time, in and out of sleep repeatedly and head constantly throbbing. And then the rest of the week, he had been bored out of his mind. He had watched and rewatched shows and movies on Netflix, and watched as much blacksmithing YouTube videos as he could without going insane. He had read some books lying around, ones the Davis's had bought him before he had even moved in (Harley didn't think too long on the implications of those actions meant, he wouldn't allow himself to) and, they weren't exactly his taste being fantasy and dystopian, but they weren't terrible either. Hell, he had even done some extra credit work for Language Arts, a class he absolutely loathed with every fiber of his being. He had almost lost his mind for the remaining three days before he came back to school. He probably would have, had it not been for one thing. One person.

Peter. Peter Parker. Peter whatever-his-middle-name-is Parker. Well, his texts anyways. Ever since Harley had texted him the day of the fight, they haven't stopped talking, not really. It had started with just a simple 20 questions, the usual normal questions you ask someone when you're trying to get to know then, but that had transitioned into just chatting about everything and anything, from movie types (Peter loved Disney, unsurprisingly to Harley, while Harley had admitted that he, embarrassingly, loved cheesy romcoms, he was a helpless romantic, could you blame him?), to what animals they preferred (Peter was a dog person, but he still loved cats and other animals to bits, and Harley much preferred dogs, as they were much more loyal in his eyes), to what video games they liked best (Peter was a Nintendo person, and loved open world games, Breath of the Wild was his favorite, while Harley doesnt like video games much, to Peter's apparent horror. _**'how do you not like video games?!? Are you an a alien or something?!?'**_  
 _ **'wait, maybe you're the alien instead of the cowboy!!!'**_ Harley had laughing out loud at that). Even when Peter had returned back to school a few days after the fight, he still found time to sneak a text or two or five to Harley whenever he had the chance, even getting his phone taken away in class once due to it ( _ **'you made me laugh and then I got in trouble, thank you for that >:I'**_).

Overall, Harley was extremely thankful for the distraction, at first to his pain and then to his boredom, and, as the week went on, he found himself _enjoying_ talking to Peter more and more. The boy was funny, kinda charming in an awkward nerdy way, and way too cute for his own good. Way too cute for _Harley's_  own good, as he starts to feel his heart beat slightly faster whenever he gets Peter's texts, as he starts to laugh and smile more than he has in a while, as he starts to feel his face heat up whenever Peter says something sweet, innocent, adorable and so like _Peter._  God, he should not be feeling this way about someone he barely knows, someone he's hardly seen in the three weeks (* _wow its almost been a month_ *) since he's been in New York, someone he acted like a dick to the few days he _did_  see Peter.

Harley sighs, shaking his head and ridding his thoughts, finding his locker and opening it, grabbing his materials for next period. Calculus. Joy. Harley doesn't mind calculus all that much, but because of his week of hell, he knows he's behind and has a lot of catching up to do. * _At least Peter will be there._ * Harley ignores his heart leaping at the thought, and shuts his locker, taking his time walking to Mrs. Miller's classroom. He was already late, so he had no need to rush. A few more minutes wouldn't do any more harm.

When he reaches the door, though, he stops, biting his bottom lip, a bit of anxiousness rising in his chest. He doesn't know what's stopping him from entering the door and sitting in his seat, acting like everything is fine, but... Maybe it's because nothing _is_ fine. Sure, Peter forgave him through text, but what if he had just said that to be nice? What if he acted different now that they were talking in person, and not through text messages? And, even if Peter did forgive him, that doesn't mean Ned or Michelle have. What if they don't want him around Peter, don't want him around in general?

He feels his chest squeezing, tight and curling with nerves, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, shutting his eyes. * _There's only one way to find out._ * He reopens his eyes, and opens the door.

He feels the stares of his classmates burning into his skin as soon as the door creaks open, but he ignores them all and walks right to the teachers desk, giving her a slip that tells her why he was late. When she accepts it, and nods to him, only then does he look up at the class, still ignoring most of the eyes, searching for one pair in particular, looking for those baby browns. He finds them, but they aren't staring at him, hasn't even noticed him come in from the looks of it, flittering as he writes down something on his page. Harley takes a second to stare at the boy, watching as he bobs his head to the music, ear buds in his ears, his foot tapping on the ground, as he continues to write and erase things, hyper focused on his work, seemingly in the zone. He looks so at ease, and that makes Harley stomach churn even more. He doesn't want to ruin his serenity but... he does need to sit down before people start looking at him weird. Weirder than they already are, anyways.

He makes his way over to his seat, the one to Peter's right that he can claimed when Peter showed him around his first (second?) day, still surprisingly empty from his week absence and sits down into it, placing his materials on top of his desk. He looks back over to Peter, seeing that the boy still hasn't noticed his existence, in his own little world as he works, until suddenly his nose scrunches up, a look of confusion passed over his face and he looks up, staring right into Harley's eyes.

Those same baby browns he searched for earlier widen, shock flooding the features of his face before they smooth back out and a large grin replaces the confusion, his eyes bright. He pops out an ear bud, leaning a little closer to Harley and whispering not to disturb the others around him, "Harley, you're here!"

Harley holds back a chuckle, and whispers back, "Yeah, I told you I would be."

Peter blinks. "Oh right. Whoops." He grins sheepishly and Harley does chuckle this time. A little too loudly, apparently, because Mrs. Miller shushes and glares at them from her desk.

Harley shuts up immediately, and Peter smiles at him sympathetically before gesturing him to move his desk over, to connect his with Peter's.

Harley nods and lifts his desk, shuffling it over silently until the left side of his desk and the right side of Peters are touching. He lays it back down then, sitting back down, his knee brushing against Peters, sending shocks of electricity through his body. He quickly jerks it away and mumbles a quiet apology to the boy, who just waves it off.

"How are you feeling?" Peter leans his head closer to Harleys again after a few minutes of silence, his voice barely audible at all. His eyes bore into Harley's, soft and curious, and Harley's heart stutters.

He sends Peter a shaky smile. "Good. Better."

Peter smiles back, mumbling, "Good. No lingering headaches, nausea, dizziness?"

Harley stifles a snort, * _mother hen_ *, before shaking his head, grinning. "No, Peter, I'm good, I promise."

Peters eyes shine with mirth, but he doesn't say anything else, just returning his focus to his work, writing in an answer to a question after looking at it for literally two seconds.

* _How in the hell?_ * Harley shakes his head again, this time in confusion, before looking down at his own very empty, very incomplete notes. He doesnt even know how much he's missed, but Harley assumed its the entire unit, based on the worksheet Peter (and the others in the class seemingly) are working on, so he tries his hardest to get through it on his own, reading the notes and attempting the questions himself, with help of the answer key and completed notes given online.

Halfway through, however, he gets stuck, and sighs, tapping his pencil down on the page. He knows he should probably ask the teacher or Peter for help, he's already behind enough, but he honestly can't really focus on it right now.

His eyes just keep wandering to Peter, to the curl on hair that has fallen out of formation and in front of his eyes, to his eyes, focused and determined, full of knowledge and wisdom as he flies through question after question with ease, to the way his lips are pursed out in his concentration, occasionally whispering numbers and letters under his breathe as he writes them down, to the skin on his collarbone showing due to his shirt, a fuzzy blue sweater, being  too big for him, falling down his shoulder and covering his hands. God, Harley is _screwed_.

He really, really shouldn't be looking at him this way. Shouldn't be feeling this way, shouldn't be staring, but Harley can't help it. Peter Parker is an angel personified, both in personality and in looks, and there's only so much a man can take, okay?

But Harley cant help the guilt still writhing under his skin. He treated Peter like shit, pushed him away and now he has a crush- * _N_ _ope I do not have a crush on him._ * And now he _likes_ him? * _That's not any better._ *

Harley grits his teeth. Peter has probably gotten so many mixed signals from him already, he cant add another one to that list. Nevermind how he's going to be gone in, what, a month? Maybe two if he's lucky. He can't pursue anything with Peter only to have him leave a month later. * _You don't even know if he likes guys! And you're barely even friends with him, Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?_ *

He feels a nudge and jumps, looking up to Peter with wide eyes, seeing the concerned look on his face. "You okay?" He whispers.

* _No, I'm fucked. I'm fucked and you can never know why._ * The guilt churns again, stronger this time, and he breaths out a sigh, breaking eye contact and mumbling an "I'm sorry."

Peter tilts his head, his concern growing, so easily shown on his face, in his eyes, in his body language. Peter Parker is the definition of an open book. "For what?"

* _For liking you way more than I should. I barley know you and yet..._ * Harley keeps his eyes on his books, and gives a half truth. "For being a dick to you last week. You didn't deserve it." * _You don't deserve to have to deal with me._ *

He sees Peter shift in the corner of his eye. "I already told you it was okay. I forgive you, Harley."

* _You shouldn't._ * "I-I know, I just..." He cuts off, pauses, and shrugs as the rest of his answer, not knowing how to put his feelings, his guilt, into words.

There's a pause, and Peter shifts again, before his soft voice breaks the silence, "Can I ask you something?"

Harley blinks up at him, before nodding slowly, confused, curious, and a little (very) nervous.

Peter looks like he's conflicted, like he doesn't know whether to ask or not, but his curiosity wins out in the end. "...why? Why did you...?"

Peter doesn't need to finish the sentence for Harley to know what he's asking. * _Why did you leave? Why did you act like an ass? Why did you do what you did?_ * And Harley's stomach drops, dread washing over him because, god how is supposed to answer that? Tell him that he didn't want to hurt him, even though he so very clearly _did_  hurt Peter? Tell him that he pushed him away to protect him, even though Harley's pretty sure it was to protect himself? Tell him that he doesn't trust people anymore, doesn't let anyone close, because everyone he loves ends up leaving, or worse?

No. He can't say any of that. So what does he say? Because as much as he can't say the truth, he doesn't want to lie to Peter either. He's trying to gain back his trust, not ruin it again the first chance he gets.

Harley thinks and thinks, and Peter waits and waits, answering a few more questions on his sheet but clearly still paying attention to Harley, waiting for his answer paitently, like the fucking saint that he is.

When Harley lets out a soft sigh, and Peter's full attention is back on him, brown bambi eyes looking so serious and attentive that Harley has to look away in order not to get lost in them, he answers, his voice barely audible and rough. "I've... Been through a lot. I lost a lot, so it's hard to... Let people..." He struggles for words, but Peter nods along, like he understands.

"In? Be close to you?" He finishes for Harley, and he nods quickly.

"In. Hard to let people in. Yeah." He breathes, looking away from Peter, feeling woozy. His chest is very tight all of a sudden, and breathing is becoming difficult and Harley doesn't like it, not one bit.

This is personal, even if it's not the whole truth, its still some of the truth, and that's more than he's told anyone in... As long as he can remember. Its been a long ass time, and even that small bit of knowledge has him out of breath and extremely anxious, on the border of a panic attack even though Harley knows, he _knows_  there's nothing wrong, no reason for it.

But before he can truly spiral, a hand is placed on his shaking one (when did he start shaking?) gently, and the contact sets his skin ablaze, making it tingle because even on the edge of panic, Harley is a mess for this boy.

Peter's thumb rubs against the back of his hand, reassuringly. "I get it. I was like that too, for a while." He murmurs, and Harley blinks up at him in shock. Peter was like him?

"...You were?"

"Mhm," He doesn't elaborate, and Harley doesn't expect him too. "I get it." He repeats instead, rubbing his hand with a little more pressure for a second, before easing back up again, and then taking away his hand completely, causing Harley to, embarrassingly, have to hold back a whine at the loss. Peter seems embarassed by the action too, if the flush on his cheeks is anything to go by. "...is that why you moved to New York too?"

The almost random nature of the question catches him off guard, but he quickly composes himself again, and takes a deep breath before nodding shakily. "Yeah, yeah. Kinda."

Peter nods again, looking almost thoughtful for a second, before giving Harley a small smile, sympathetic, pitying. "I'm sorry."

Harley shakes his head. "Nothing to be sorry for." He murmurs gently, going to say more before a new voice cuts in and cuts him off.

"As much as I love deep conversations, maybe having one in the middle of a study period isn't such a good idea."

Harley's head shoots up, seeing Michelle sat in the seat in front of them, turned around to face them, her dark brown (he swore they were black, they barely looked brown) eyes staring him down, only flickering to Peter every once in a while, cold and calculating.

Harley winces slightly, he had almost forgotten that Michelle was in this class too. She was still as stand offish as ever, maybe a little more cold now than before though. But Harley deserves that after hurting her friend, seemingly one of her best friend.

"Sorry, MJ." Peter seems to flinch slightly too, but more so in guilt that anything else, and Harley echoes the notion, not breaking eye contact with the steely girl.

She stares back at him for a few moments longer, before nodding once, and turning back around, going back to whatever she is doing.

Harley continues to watch her back for a second, contemplating something, before turning back to his work.

The rest of the period is spent in silence, Harley only breaking it to ask a question or two to Peter whenever he gets really stuck. His head is hurting with all the new material by the time the bell rings, and Harley stifles a groan, knowing that today was going to be a long day. He starts to gather his things, but before he can close his binder, a hand gently stops him. He looks to Peter, blue meeting brown, and Peter smiles at him softly, almost shyly. "See you at lunch?"

Harley grins at him, warmth flooding through him at the invitation. "Yeah, of course."

Peter grins back, suddenly looking cheeky. "Okay, good. Don't run off this time!"

He nudges Harley's shoulder with his own, chuckling as he starts to walk out of the room. "I'll try not to!" Harley calls after him, thankful that they're back to their banter, the exact opposite of the deep conversation from earlier. He longs to follow the boy, to walk him to his locker before going to his own, but there's something he has to do first.

He sees Michelle (MJ? Peter calls her MJ, but she introduced herself as Michelle, so thats what he's going with) still packing away her things, so he gathers up his courage, the little amount of it that he has, and walks up to her, tapping on her desk to get her attention.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" She stares at him again, this time without emotion, blank and still as a statue, before blinking once. Harley takes that as a yes, and continues. "I'm... Sorry. For how I was last week." She blinks again, and her eyes widen slightly before her face returns to blank. A mask, Harley realizes, but doesnt say anything on it, doesn't have a right to. He would use masks with someone he didn't trust too. "I acted like a dick, not only to Peter, but to you and Ned too. I shouldn't have done what I did, but I did anyways, and I'm sorry. I know you won't trust me right away, and that's fine, I get it. I wouldn't trust me either. But I hope you can forgive me."

She just continues to stare at him once he finishes his speech, and her almost critical look makes him feel uneasy, making him shift his weight from one foot to the other. After a few moments, she goes back to packing up her things, and Harley just watches, stands there, awkward, confused and unsure of himself. * _Is she going to say anything, should I just leave or...?_ * He stays anyways, even through the awkwardness. He made it this far, he wasn't cowarding out now.

She finishes gathering her materials, tucked away in her arms, and stands up, looks him up and down once, before saying bluntly "Just don't fuck it up again, Nerd." and walking away.

Harley blinks at the now empty spot where she was once standing, before turning to watch her as she leaves, turning around the corner and out the door of the classroom, head up, strong, confident and proud.

He just lets out a breathy chuckle once she's gone, shaking his head, grinning to himself as he grabs his materials and follows suit. He has gotten Michelle's forgiveness, and approval seemingly, somehow, and he had gotten Peter's from the get go. He thinks back to her words, a hint of determination flowing through him. He wasn't going to fuck this up again, not with Peter, not with Michelle and hopefully not with Ned. He wasn't going to fuck it up anymore, he was going to make sure of it.

Two apologies down, one to go.


	9. First Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, another chapter that's kind of all over the place lolol oh well
> 
> Its just filler leading up to the good stuff anyways. We're getting there, everybody! Slowly, but surely :P
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Peter taps his fingers on the table over and over, feeling his anxiousness bubbling under his skin. He keeps checking the entrance to the cafeteria, and the clock next to said entrance over and over, ignoring the hussle and bussle of people in the loud, large room.

He doesn't know why he's so fricken anxious, but he can't seem to help it. Harley said he would be coming to lunch with them, he said he would be here, but it's been ten minutes and he still wasn't. * _Its probably nothing, Peter, chill out._ *

But what if it _wasn't_ nothing? What if Harley got hurt on the way over here, or what if he got into another fight or something? ...What if he decided he didn't want to come anymore? His heart aches strongly at the thought, and he quickly pushes it away. * _No, he wouldnt. He said he wouldn't leave again, he apologized, he's different now.-_ _Then, why isn't he here yet? Ten minutes sure is a long time.- I'm sure he has a good reason for it!*_

He shakes his head, gritting his teeth and bouncing his leg, his entire body almost vibrating as he looks back at the clock. Eleven minutes now.

Peter can start to feel a small flame of frustration burning in the pits of his stomach. He doesn't know why he's so concerned about this boy showing up, it wasnt like he walked out on them the first time he joined the lunch table or anything. * _No, that's not fair. You know why you're so concerned. You care about him._ *

And that was just it, wasn't it? Peter cares _so much_  about Harley, it was kind of insane. He cares about whether or not he shows up, he cares about how Harley is doing outside of school, he cares about this puzzle of a boy he only met last week, and he knows he'd be so fricken disappointed if said boy didn't show up.

Hell, he hasn't even stopped thinking about Harley since he showed up halfway through second period. Since he apologized. Since they had their somewhat serious talk (Somewhat? Their _very_ serious talk) and now, Peter was even more worried, concerned, fucking _intrigued_ about Harley and his past. Lost a lot of people? Can't let people close? Has a lot of trust issues because of it? Almost having a panic attack just _discussing_  it? Something bad, something very very bad has happened to Harley Keener, and for some odd, weird, _stupid_ reason, Peter wants to be the one to figure it out. Peter wants to be the one Harley can trust, the one Harley can go to and share all of his secrets, tell all of his stories, talk about his deepest darkest insecurities to. Peter wants to be the one to hold him, to be there for him, and to support him in whatever he's going through, whatever he has been through. Peter wants to be the one to be _close_  to Harley, to break down his walls and to show him that people can be trustworthy, that he can be close to people and not get hurt by them.

He really really really wants to be Harley's best friend, the bestest friend Harley could ever ask for.

Yeah. Friends. Thats what this was. His longing for friendship.

"Dude, are you okay? You're shaking the entire table." Peter snaps out of his trance, seeing that its now been thirteen minutes, ignoring the pain in his heart that shoots through him, and looks to his best friend, looking all too concerned, holding a French fry half way to his mouth.

Peter stops his leg as he realizes that he was indeed shaking the entire table, and mutters out an apology, shifting his gaze to his own lunch, a simple cheeseburger and fries, feeling slightly nauseous. "Yeah, I'm good."

"He's waiting for his lover boy to show." MJ chips in unhelpfully, popping a green bean into her mouth with a wide smirk.

Peter just narrows his eyes at her, glaring at her with little heat, his face burning more than his stare. " _Not_ my lover boy."

MJ nods along like she's agreeing, but the widening grin on her face and the teasing glint in her eyes tells Peter otherwise. "Keep telling yourself that, Parker."

He just rolls his eyes, not bothering to answer, looking back to the clock. Fifteen minutes past. Before long, his rhythmic tapping and his bouncing starts up again, his nerves swirling and curling around inside of him, his heart continuing to ache more and more the longer Harley takes. * _Just show up, dammit!_ *

A hand is suddenly on top of his, stopping his anxious fidgeting. Peter trails the hand back to MJ, the girl staring at him sincerely now, eyes intense but warm as she states simply, "He'll show."

"How do you know?" Peter blurts out before he can think, his insecurities making themselves known. He looks down to the ground as soon as the words pass his mouth, embarassed.

He hears MJ hum for a second, before he sees her shrug out of his peripheral vision. "I trust him."

His head shoots back up at that, his eyes widening with shock, but also with a weird feeling warming his chest. "Really?? But the other day, you said-"

"I know what I said." She cuts him off, not harsh, but firm. "I didn't trust him then. Now I do." She pauses, but her eyes soften slightly and a small smile grows on her face. "He apologized earlier. Said he was a dick, which he was, and that I didn't have to trust him, but that he hopes I could forgive him. He didn't have to do that, but he did." She pops another bean into her mouth, speaking around it as she finishes, "So, I'm giving him another shot."

"He did the same to me, right before third period." Ned speaks up after he swallows his bite of pizza. "Said pretty much the same things, that I didn't need to trust him, just wanted my forgiveness, whatever. But I wasn't even mad at him," he chuckles, "I just knew he upset you so, best friend mode kicked in and I had to be 'upset' at him too." He gestures out the quotation marks before shrugging. "It was sweet. Nice of him to do, ya know? I already forgave him as soon as he apologized to you, but him going out of his way to apologize to me too, when he didn't even do anything to me personally... It meant a lot."

Peter nods along to both of their explanations, feeling his heart swell at his friends words. They're both so protective of him, and care so much about it that they would be upset or untrustworthy of someone that hurt him. It's so sweet, but it's not only reason that Peter feels lighter than air.

Harley took the time to go to both MJ and Ned, people he didn't even really talk to much during his first day, much less hurt in any way, and apologized to them anyways, knowing he had hurt one of their close friends and wanting their forgiveness for it too. It was so kind and thoughtful of him, and it made Peter over the moon to know that his friends were now also on board with Harley being around again, something that Peter had been worrying about since inviting the boy to join lunch with them again. Now that he knew they were giving him a second chance too, that they were on board...

Well, let's just say Peter feels very warm and fuzzy about it.

"That's... Amazing. I'm really glad to hear it." Peter is smiling from ear to ear subconciously, his gaze flickering between his two best friends in the whole world who are both looking back at him with matching smiles, sensing his obvious joy, but also with knowing looks that Peter doesn't seem to notice.

"But, if he hurts you again, he's dead to me." MJ deadpans as she opens up her notebook and gets out her drawing pencils, causing Peter to laugh loudly, shaking his head at her antics. Gotta love MJ.

Peter suddenly feels a light tingle on the back of his neck (* _Person approaching, unarmed._ *) and hear loud, pounding footsteps right before a voice breaks through the noise of the cafeteria around them, sounding very out of breath.

"I'm _so_ sorry I'm late! My teacher held me back." * _Harley._ * Speak of the devil, but Peter's never been happier to hear him in his life. The devil flops into the seat next to Peter's, huffing loudly, seeming very annoying. "He just kept giving me worksheet after worksheet, like Jesus, I missed a week not an entire semester."

He pauses, and Peter takes the time to look over at him, his heart stopping when he does. His blond hair was much messier than it was earlier, disheveled and all over the place, some pieces falling in front of his bright azure eyes, full of frustration and irritation, though clearly not towards them. His longer, slender nose now had a noticable bend in the middle from where it had been broken and replaced, and his thin lips looked wet and bitten, like he's been licking and biting at them all day. His face had a slight flush to it and some shine, seemingly having ran his way over to the cafeteria, and it made him glow. He was... Extremely attractive in this light, and Peter quickly forces himself to look away, staring down at his tray of food, his face burning and his heart racing.

What is going on with him? First he can't get his mind off of him, then he wants to become really close to Harley and now he finds him... Attractive? * _He's just an attractive person. You can admit someone's attractive without being attracted to them... Right?_ *

He feels a nudge on his shoulder from his right, and he flinches, staring up at the perpetrator with wide eyes. MJ stares back, looking _very_  smug all of a sudden, but not saying a word. After a few moments of (extremely awkward) silence, Peter decides that he's going to have to break it, seeing as no one else will.

He looks back and forth between MJ, Ned and Harley, all of them looking at him with different looks, MJ smug, Ned amused, Harley worried, but all expectant. "...what?"

MJ just snorts, and points to Harley as the boy speaks up. "I asked if it was okay that I sat here?" Peter flicks to Harley again, seeing that he looked apologetic and shy. "I just kinda sat down without asking..."

"Wha? Yeah, yeah of course." Peter stammers out, before putting on a confident grin, hopefully masking the sudden butterflies Peter feels in his stomach. "Its not like I invited you here or anything."

Harley snorts, rolling his eyes, but Peter can see his body relax, obviously relieved by Peter's reassurance, grinning back at him. "Just wanted to make sure."

Now that Harley is actually here and Peter knows that he wanted to be here and isn't going to leave, time seems to fly by. When before, every minute felt like an hour, now that Harley was here, laughing, joking and fitting right into their little circle like he had never even left, like he was always apart of the group, every minute flickered by like a second and before any of them knew it, it was almost time for fourth period.

Peter felt a pang in his chest as he glanced at the clock, seeing 12:50 shining back with bright red numbers. He always loved lunches and hanging out with his friends, but now, _today.._. Peter didn't want it to end.

"Oh!" Ned jumps up, leaning forward over the table with excitement. "I forgot to tell you guys, I got invited to a party this weekend."

Peter's eyebrows shoot up, a smile growing on his face as he pushes away his melancholy. "No way, dude! Who's party is it??"

"Betty's, but they said I could bring whomever I wanted soooo," he leans even more forward, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, looking from Peter, to MJ, to Harley and back to Peter again. "You guys wanna come??"

"Hell yeah, I'll come!" Peter blurts out, almost surging forward with newfound energy before pausing to think. "Well, it's a May weekend, so I'll have to ask Aunt May, but I doubt she'll mind."

Ned rolls his eyes. "She never minds. MJ?" He looks over expectantly at the girl, who just shrugs, not looking up from her sketchbook.

"Sure, why not? Can't leave you losers there alone."

"Awesome!" Ned claps his hands together before looking at the last member at the table, who was looking down at the table, seemingly not paying attention but also looking... sad, down. Harley looks so small again all of a sudden, such a contrast to the big, loud confidence he had started the lunch with today. "Harley?" Ned had noticed too, if the slight undertone of concern was anything to go by.

"Hmm?" Blues eyes shoot up, and Peter can see the storm brewing in behind his pupils again, causing his stomach to twist and his lips to tilt into a frown.

"Are you coming??" Ned gives him a supportive, light smile, and Harley gawks at him.

"...coming?" He echoes, eyebrows furrowed together, clear confusion written all over his face.

"To the party?" Peter reminds him gently, his next words catching in his throat as those deep seas flicker to him, swirling with confusion, hints of hurt and longing. Peters heart breaks as he finally realizes why Harley is so confused.

He looks back to Ned, shock littering his features as he whispers quietly, shakily, "...I'm invited?"

And if Peter's heart had broken before, it had shattered and crumbled to dust now, hearing that pitiful murmur out of Harley's mouth. "Of course you are, Harley." Peter hears himself say quietly, full of sadness and sympathy.

"We aren't gonna not invite you." MJ snorts again, but her tone is light, voice softer than usual.

"Yeah, you're part of the group now, so you better get used to it." Ned chuckles, smiling wide and open.

Harley swallows noticeably, and then hes blinking rapidly, looking away to hide the shine in his eyes that Peter only barely got a glimpse of. "R-Really?"

Before Peter can even think about it, he's placing his hand on top of Harley's, the same way he had earlier in calculus, and rubbing it gently. "Really." He reassures softly, smiling when Harley looks up to him, hope shining in his eyes for the first time since Peter has met him. Hope and overwhelming elation.

Harley nods a few times shakily, smiling from ear to ear as he says "o-okay, then, yeah. Yeah I'd love to go. Thank you."

"Perfect! It's Friday night at 8pm, so we'll discuss to meet at someones house and then go from there. Sound good?"

All three of them nod just as the bell rings, and as they stand up to go their seperate ways, even though Peter has PE next period with both Ned and Harley, he looks back at the latter, a small smile on his face as he does.

He looks so unbelievably happy, smiling bigger than Peters ever seen him smile, his eyes a bright, light blue like the sky on a cloudless day, the storm that had once haunted them passing by for the time being, his face looking younger and warmer with his joyous glow.

And when the boy reconnects their eyes and grins a large toothy grin at him, teasing "are ya just gonna stand there, or what?", Peter can't help but to smile back and follow behind him, snarking and laughing all the way to the gym, reveling in the boys radiant happiness. Peter has never seen Harley this way, but he never wants it to stop. He wants to keep Harley this way forever, joyous, hopeful,  _happy_. He is determined to, no matter what it takes.


	10. First Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10, the big 1 0, hitting double digits on this fic aaaand it's mostly filler. Whoops.  
> But Aunt May is finally introduced! Yay!
> 
> And next chapter should have some fun, juicy stuff it in, so stay tuned for that! :))
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Harley jumps up the flight of stairs in the apartment building, taking two to three steps at a time just to get to the Davis' apartment faster. He can feel excitement surging through his body like electricity, giving him the energy to run and skip up the steps, not even upset that the elevator is somehow broken again for the third time this month.

He just can't believe it. They had forgiven him. All of them. Peter, Michelle, Ned, they had _all_  forgiven him. They had more than forgiven him, they want to be his friend! In their friend group! And they want to go to a party! With him! He couldn't believe it. He was over the moon, nay, over the entire fricken solar system. He wants to run around and dance and sing and laugh all at the same time, his body filled to the brim with glee. He feels like a little kid again, like he has no cares in the world, like he just made his first real friend and is running home to tell his mom and sis about it.

_"Ma, Ma! I made a friend! A friend!"_  
_"That's amazing, sugarplum! What's their name??"_

He abruptly stops right in the middle of the hallway, the door to their apartment just a few steps away. He swallows thickly, the memory stuffing in his throat and almost choking him with its bittersweet agony, the feeling of pure _longing_  crushing his lungs, causing him to almost have to gasp for breath. _God_  he missed them. He missed his mom and her soft, careful touches, her soothing voice telling him that _"it'll all be okay, carebear, everything will be okay"_ , her gentle hugs and feather light kisses on the forehead to put him to sleep at night. He missed his sister, Abbie, and her firecracker attitude, her random puns that always brightened up the mood, no matter how awful Harley had felt.

He wondered where she was now, if she was still in Tennessee, or moved somewhere else, like he was. If she was bouncing around from family to family, or if she had even been fortunate enough to be adopted. He figures she has been, Abbie is too good of a treasure for any family to pass up.

He wishes they were here, waiting for him behind the blank gray door, chipping a little due to wear and tear, but he knows they aren't. They never will be. Not anymore.

His heart aches, guilt curling in his stomach (* _if only I had been good enough_ *) but he pushes the thoughts away, and grabs the keys out of his pocket. He's supposed to be excited and happy right now, not down in the dumps. Not even his after school detention had brought down his mood (even though it almost beat the week of hell with its dullness. Almost.) So he reaches deep, deep down in his gut and finds that little spark of hope that had burned bright earlier, and forces that to the forefront as he opens the door, placing a big smile on his face.

"Harley, is that you?" He hears Mrs. Davis' voice welcome him as he shuts the door behind him and shuffles off his shoes, leaving them besides the shoe rack holding two other pairs of shoes, one looking more like a slipper than a shoe, light and flimsy, and the other a pair very clearly steel toed boots, for Mr. and Mrs. Davis respectfully.

"Yeah!" He calls back, before making his way down the hall, past the living room (once he saw that it was empty) and into the dining room/kitchen, where he finally spotted the Davis' cooking together, Mrs. Davis hovering over the stove and Mr. Davis chopping up some peppers.

He leans against the doorway just as Mr. Davis looks up from the cutting board and gives him a smile, stopping his work for a bit. "Hey kiddo, how was your first day back?"

Harley internally winces at 'kiddo', that's waaay too _parental_  of a nickname, before quickly brushes it off, the excitment from earlier coming back in droves. "Good. Really good, honestly. I- uh- I made some new friends?"

"That's awesome, sweetheart!" Mrs. Davis pops in all of a sudden, smiling wide, looking happy and excited for Harley. * _"That's amazing, sugarplum!"_ * Harley winces externally this time, but it thankfully goes unnoticed by the duo as she continues, "What's their names??"

"Peter, Ned and Michelle." He lists off, adjusting the backpack that's hanging off of one of his shoulders, making sure it doesn't fall off as he talks.

"Michelle, eh?" Mr. Davis teases, a shit eating grin on his face as he continuing his chopping and dicing, now moving on to an onion instead of the peppers. "Is she cute?"

" _Chris!_ " Mrs. Davis chastises, smacking the man's upper arm playfully with one hand while stirring the pot, seemingly full of noodles, with the other. "Don't embarass him!"

Harley just rolls his eyes and holds in a laugh. Him and Michelle together, _right_. Wouldn't that be a sight to see. Too bad Harley doesnt swing that way. "Nah she's... Not really my type."

His excitement and the continuous joy flowing through his veins seems to have made him more courageous, because normally he would _never_ say something like that, never say something that could give him away, that could potentially _out_  him, but right now, in this moment, Harley just can't seem to care.

He _is_ starting to get restless though, he needs to know their answer dammit!

"Anyways," he drawls, shifting slightly in his spot as a little bit of nerves start to show up again. "They, uh, they invited me to something this weekend."

"Oh, did they?" Mrs. Davis almost sounds surprised at that, which is fair enough seeing as to them, he made these friends today. Which he kind of did. All of this was pretty crazy to Harley, too.

"Yeah," he shifts again, getting uncomfortable against the door frame while also feeling _extremely_  nervous about how they're gonna react. "It's a party."

He glances between the two adults to see their reactions with baited breath. They both seem to tense up, stopping their seperate tasks to stare at each other, having a conversation with their eyes like they always seem to do. Harley swore they had telepathy and could talk to each other with their minds, it was the only way he could explain their freaky reading-each-others-minds-without-talking bullshit they always did. Harley would find it cute if he didn't find it so creepy. _Especially_ since it usually had something to do with him.

Mrs. Davis is the one to break the very, very long silence (that really wasnt all that long, but Harley's dramatic, so it felt like eternity), but doesn't disconnect her eyes with Mr. Davis as she asks him, "Will there be alcohol at this party?"

Harley fidgets with the strap of his bag, but keeps his eyes up, resisting the strong urge to look away, hopefully displaying a look of confidence instead of the extreme anxiety he's feeling on the inside. "Uhm I'm- I'm not sure, honestly, but most likely?" He tells the truth, not really seeing a point to lying. It doesnt help his case in any way. Especially if there actually _was_ alcohol at this party, and he lied and got caught or something. That wouldn't help his case at all. That wouldn't help anything.

There's another round of silence, and Harley is seriously getting tired of the staring contest they seem to be having.

Luckily, soon enough, Mr. Davis nods and _finally_  looks away, connecting his eyes to Harley's instead of his wive's, green to blue. "You can go."

Harley feels his heart jump with elation, a grin already starting to creep on to his face, even as Mrs. Davis cuts back in.

" _But!_  No drinking, or drugs, or any mixture of the two." She points to him, her tone, face and eyes very stern, making her point. "And, if you get with someone, _anyone_ , for the love of God, _please_  wear protection _._ "

Harley sputters, now completely and utterly _mortified_ , face burning a bright red as he squeaks out, "I-Im not getting with someone!"

Aside from the awful embarassment of the situation (he did _not_  need the sex talk from these people, thank you very much. Although, he doesn't think he's ever actually gotten the sex talk from anyone before. Huh. Still, he doesn't need it, especially not from the Davis'. He gets the jist), he actually is pretty fucking happy right now. He made new friends (had old friends forgive him? Same difference), he got invited to hang out with them, at a party no less, and his parents (parental figures? _Whatever_ ) actually accepted it, and are letting him go!! This is amazing!

"Rebecca! _Don't embarass him!_ " Mr. Davis mocks in a very high pitched, very exaggerated voice, chuckling when she smacks him in the arm again, harder this time.

"I'm just laying down the law, and making sure he knows the rules." Mrs. Davis teases back, bumping him with her hip before going back to her pot, adding some more salt into the water.

Mr. Davis starts to mock her again, standing right behind her, bodies pressing together, placing his hands at her hips and _okay,_  that's Harley's cue to go. He's been horrified enough for one day.

Besides, he has someone he has to text.

"Thank you!" He calls out as he exits the door frame, going back into the hallway and towards his room. The guest room. Whatever. It was pretty much his room now, right? So what if he called it his room? It is _his_  room for the time being, after all.

"Hey, don't be too long, dinner should be ready in ten!" He hears Mrs. Davis call back to him, before she lets out a loud squeak and laugh, probably at something Mr. Davis did. He doesn't even want to know.

"Okay!" He opens his door as soon as possible, shutting it behind him and almost throwing his bag to the floor, grabbing his phone out of the front pocket.

He then plops into his bed, opening up his phone and bringing up his and Peter's conversation, already typing out the delivery of his very good news.

\--

The rest of the week flew by in a blur, nothing super crazy happening, and it was finally, _finally_  time for the party.

He had gotten a text message earlier from the group chat (he had gotten the privilege of joining the friend group group chat after the third day, once they realized he wasn't going to run away again and once they had deemed him worthy of the honor), telling him to meet up at Peter's place and that they'd be going from there, with his aunt driving them to the party.

Harley definitely wasn't nervous about meeting Peter's aunt, and basically meeting his family. He definitely wasnt. Nope. Don't know what you're talking about.

When he had heard about it for the first time, Harley had wondered _why_  Peter was living with his aunt, instead of his parents. But then he remembered that Peter had touched on having a rough life too ( _"I get it. I was like that too, for a while"_ ) and that it was probably a pretty personal thing, so he didn't question it. Besides, was he really in the position to ask questions like that, with his own messed up situation?

But he still couldn't help but to wonder, and to hope that maybe one day, Peter will trust him enough to open up to him about the reason why.

Until then, though, he had an aunt to meet, and a party to go to.

He steps up to the apartment door, number 25 in this building, picking at the rolled up sleeves on his flannel. He had asked in advance how they should dress, casual or fancy, because he's from bumfuck nowhere, Tennessee where people dont care how you dress as long as you show up ready to drink, and he didn't know if New York was any different or not. Apparently not really, as they had told him to wear whatever he wanted, but they had also said that most people dressed up a little bit, as you didn't really get invited to parties all that often. So, Harley had done exactly that, going for a casualish look, sporting a simple black t-shirt with a red flannel put loosely over it, the sleeves rolled up to just above his elbow and a pair of dark wash jeans that fit his legs nicely. Stylish, but comfy. Dressed up more than his usual old v-necks and raggedy jeans, but not _fancy suit_  dressed up. Semi-Formal. Ish. He had even styled his hair a bit, and put some gel into it to keep it up and out of his face while they did whatever they were going to do tonight. Dancing, he hopes.

He knocks on the door three times firmly, and leans back to wait, a mixture of nerves and wild anticipation flowing through him. He suddenly hears a feminine voice call out "come in!" from inside, and so, with a deep breath, he does just that, turning the unlocked knob of the door and going inside. He shuts the door behind him, and pauses to look around him and take in the Parker household.

Unlike the Davis residence, where there was a small entry way and a hallway before you enter into the rest of the house, this apartment was open right from the get go. As soon as you walk in, you're treated to a view of the living room straight ahead of you, a small dining room to your left and the kitchen right next to the dining room, all open and accessible right off the bat. The living room was a large size, with an old, worn out but comfortable looking couch stretched out almost as a divider between the kitchen and the living room, two side table sat on either side with lamps on them, turned on giving the room a warm yellow glow, a loveseat sat to the right of the couch, facing a tv that was on the wall directly across from said couch, and a small coffee table inbetween. The walls are a light grayish color, and there's a multitude of family photos scattered across them, most of which are too far away for Harley to get a close look (sadly, Harley imagines that Peter was an adorable baby, as _*he's adorable now*_ ), with the occasional art piece littered around too.

It was very homey and inviting, much like a tight hug from one of your close relatives, and Harley relaxed a little in its calming aura.

After he scans the place, he quickly finds his friends, Michelle _"My friends call me MJ"_ Jones sat on the couch, looking like she owned the place in a dark blue fit-and-flare dress, matched up with her signature pair of white converse snickers (that are surprisingly clean for it being winter in New York) and it even looks like she did her makeup, her eyeshadow matching her dress with a soft pink lip. Ned _"It's just Ned dude, no other name"_ Leeds is sat in the loveseat beside her, wearing a nice maroon shirt with a matching fedora and looking sharp while at it. Harley could _never_  work a fedora, it suits some people, it clearly suits Ned, but it does not suit him (although someday he's going to get a cowboy hat and wear it for Peter, just for shits and giggles, and to see how he'd react to the 'cowboy' actually being a cowboy).

Before he could get a word in to say hi to his two new friends, the same feminine voice from before comes back, this time with a face, a middle aged women coming around the corner of a hallway, _*must be where the bedrooms are.*_

"I'm so sorry for not getting the door, Peter needed help with something. You must be Harley." The woman holds out a hand, her light brown long hair frazzled, falling in front of her face, a smile lighting up her softer features. "I'm May, Peter's aunt."

It's sad that his first thought of her is * _Wow, she's younger than I expected_ * but could you blame him? The woman looked like she was barley thirty, her tall lanky frame fitted nicely by her beige blouse and black pencil skirt, and her face is soft, youthful, her brown eyes bright. The only sign of age he can see on her is the slight crinkles beside her eyes, and that could only be because she was smiling.

He shakes those thoughts away internally and reaches out, shaking her hand with a strong, firm grip. "I'm Harley. Nice to meet you, Ms. Parker."

"Oh please," she scoffs, waving him off as she wanders away into the living room, walking towards the kitchen. "Call me May, Ms. Parker makes me feel old. Want a drink or snack before you go?"

"Uhm, no thank you, Ms- May." He saves himself, smiling kindly at her to show his appreciation, before narrowing his eyes at Ned as he snorts and mutters "Ms May" under his breath.

"Nice of you to finally show, Keener." Michelle (he's still not sure if he should call her MJ yet) cuts in, sending a shit eating grin his way.

Harley blinks, before furrowing his eyebrows together in confusion. "Finally show? Am I late? I could be sworn I was on time-" * _It was only 7:15 when I last checked..._ *

He reaches for his phone in his pocket to recheck the time but Michelle just shakes her head, the grin getting wider, smugger. "Nah, just wanted to see you squirm a little."

Harley then turns his glare on to her, though it's definitely a playful one, not an actual heated glare. He goes to rebuttal, but another voice rings out before he can, scolding the girl. "MJ, be nice!"

MJ responds with something, probably snarky, but Harley doesn't hear it as Peter appears from around the corner and * _holy shit._ * Harley thinks his heart just about stops, the breath knocked out of him as he sees Peter dressed up for the first time.

He wasn't even all that dressed up, wearing a blue plaid button up with a few buttons undone, a white shirt poking out from underneath and a light wash looser fitting pair of jeans, but _man_  did it suit Peter. A perfect mix of nerdiness and charm. Add that with his hair slicked back a little less than usual, allowing some curls to show through, the hint of makeup Harley thinks he can see on Peter's face, foundation making his skin look immaculate and a bit of eyeliner making his eyes pop, and Harley was absolutely smitten. He looked _amazing_ , Harley was already so gone for this boy, oh god he's _so_  screwed. "Ready to go?"

Harley snaps out of his thoughts, and nods dumbly, still in a bit of a daze as Peter strolls past him to his door, looking over his shoulder to tease, "well come on then, slowpoke, we don't wanna be late!"

Harley just nods subconsciously again, blinking at the empty space where Peter once stood for a few seconds before spinning on his heels and blurting out, "You look nice!" Immediately after he does, Harley mentally facepalms himself, groaning internally as his face starts to burn, * _you dumbass._ *

But the small, shy smile, the faint blush that covers Peter's cheeks and the soft "Thanks, you too." he gets in return for it makes it all worth while. Even as Michelle snorts and Ned snickers in the background.

As they all make their way to the party in Ms. Parker's, _May's,_ car, Harley, Michelle and Ned in the backseat while Peter was sat in the front, Harley can't help but to glance back at the latter. Peter look ethereal, the bright neon signs illuminating the New York night, sending beams of bright colors across Peter's face and making him almost glow, his chiseled jaw looking more defined with heavy shadows and his chocolate eyes shine and contracts against the reds and whites, crinkled slightly as he laughs at whatever joke Ned had just told. Harley's heart is beating out of his chest, and he feels breathless as he stares at what must an angel personified, in both personality and beauty.

This was _bad._ So so so bad. Harley knows this is bad, knows he shouldn't be feeling this way, knows that there's no situation where this ends well. Crushes for Harley only ever end in heartbreak. I mean, how wouldn't they? For one thing, they're always _boys_ , which causes obstacles on its own, because they're usually always _straight_ , and even if they aren't, even if they do feel the same way, * _even if Peter ended up feeling the same way_ *, it wouldn't matter because Harley always had to leave. Even if everything went right, and he did get the chance to date his crush, * _to date Peter_ *, he would only end up hurting him in the end. He would only end up _l_ _eaving_  in the end. He always does.

He needs to stop these feelings, and fast. How? He doesn't know. All he knows as he forces his gaze away from the boy to glare out the window, his heart squeezing in his chest, is that he can't feel this way about Peter. He can't hurt him more than he already will.

He can't do this to Peter, or to himself, he can't. He can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry >< they get together eventually I promise diwjdhsks-


	11. First Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready, kids?  
> Ai, ai, Captain!  
> I can't hear you!  
> Ai, ai, Captain!  
> Oooooooh-
> 
> Joking aside, buckle up folks, cause this chapters a ride. A fun ride? A bad ride? Well, you'll just have to read and find out ;)
> 
> (Also the beginning of the chap is really bad, and I may have forgotten about Ned and MJ halfway through writing it but ahdisndhs it's fine--)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Aunt May pulls the car over to the curb outside of a huge, almost mansion like house in the suburbs, the music baring and different colored lights shining through the windows. They're in the right place alright. She puts the car into park before turning her upper body to look back at the passengers, their three bodies smushed together in the back of the small car.

"Now," She starts, pointing towards Ned and MJ. "You two know the drill, but I'm going to reiterate anyways, especially because we got a new passenger on board." She winks to Harley playfully, and Peter snorts, shaking his head at her antics before she goes back to being stern, her face turning serious. "Dont do drugs, don't drink too much, because I know better than to think you aren't going to do it _at all_ , lord knows I did when I was your age. Watch out for each other, make sure you know where everyone is at all times. Just be _smart_. Be _safe_. That's all I ask."

"We will, Aunt May. I promise." Peter reassures her honestly, his friends echoing him in the back. They know better than to get blackout drunk, or do heavy drugs and shit. They came to have a good time, not to get wasted and pass out.

"I know, I know. You're smart kids, but I just gotta make sure." She looks back to Peter, her eyes warm. "You know how I am."

"I know," he rolls his eyes, chuckling as the others start to get out of the car, Peter unbundling his seat belt, "But we'll be _fine_ , May, promise!"

"Okay, okay!" She relents, laughing lightly.

Peter goes to grab his car door, but it opens up before he can. He looks up, blinking as Harley holds the door open for him, looking a bit shy as he does. Peter steps out, face ablaze, but smiling bright as he thanks Harley quietly, "You didn't have to do that."

Harley just shrugs, a light flush on his face, now looking sheepish. "Southern hospitality, its... instinct." He then turns back towards the car and adresses his aunt with a small smile on his face. "I'll make sure to keep him safe."

Normally, Peter would bristle at a comment like that, because hes _Spider-Man for pete's sake, he doesn't need protection,_  but coming from Harley, he knows it wasn't said with malicious intent, quite the opposite it seems, and it only fares at make the butterflies growing in Peter's stomach larger.

May looks surprised at the comment for a second, before looking to Peter with an eyebrow raised and a soft smile on her face, as if to say _'what a gentlemen, hey?'_ but theres an unknown, intense emotion swirling in her eyes that's makes Peter shift a bit, and look away, feeling uneasy. "See that you do." is her response after a small pause, "Look after the others too!"

"We will." Harley responds in earnest before shutting the door, May calling out "Have fun!" just as the door shuts. They all wave as she drives away, honking a goodbye, before Peter hears Harley chuckling, and he turns to face the boy, quirking an eyebrow. He just shrugs again, "You have a cool aunt."

Peter watches the car turn down the street, and thinks about all the time May has been there for him over the years. When his parents died, and she and Uncle Ben took him in, no questions asked, even though she never wanted children. When Uncle Ben died right in front of his eyes, and she hadn't blamed him for a second, even after finding out he had had his powers when it happened, only making sure he was okay, even through her own grief. When he had 'lost the Stark Internship' and had held him tight and close, ignoring her anger and fear to make sure he was alright. When she had found out he was Spider-Man, and had yelled at him for hours, but had over time grown to accept it and help him with his spidermanning alongside Mr. Stark in any way she could.

She was more than cool, really, she was amazing. He couldn't be more thankful to have her in his life, even though all of the grief and sorrow that had brought them together in the first place. He was lucky to have her, he realizes. He makes a mental note to thank her later, for everything she's done.

"Yeah, I really do." Peter mumbles, unfocused, still staring down the road even though the car is no longer there. He shakes his head to snap out of it, and looks over to Harley with a grin, ignoring that he notices how the warm yellow streetlights hit Harley's sapphire eyes _just right._  "Ready to go in?"

Harley smiles back, but it's a little shaky, uncertain, his hands in his pockets and his posture a little tense, bordering on standoffish, which confuses Petes. But he chooses to ignore it for the moment.

"Y-Yeah, im just- I dont know, a little nervous, I guess?" He rubs the back of his neck, looking away towards the house, the loud bass noticable even from where they're standing. "I've never been to a party this big before." He admits quietly, seeming embarassed by that fact, even though it's nothing to be embarassed about.

A mansion for a house, the music so loud that it's almost shaking the structure, the amount of people Peter can see from just the windows alone, let alone the ones that are outside on the step, giggling in their seemingly drunk or high state. It's all nerve wracking for Peter, and he's lived in New York his whole life. He can't imagine how daunting it is for someone from a small town like Harley.

He places a hand on Harley's shoulder, hopefully reassuring him with a gentle smile and kind eyes. "Hey, don't worry about it alright? It'll be fine, _you_  will be fine. We're here to have fun, aren't we?" He raises an eyebrow in question, noticing how Harley's face got darker with Peter's touch, noticing how his eyes widened slightly, noticing how close they are standing, side by side, almost brushing against each other and Peter should move away now, he really really should-

Thankfully, MJ (who he forgot was still around, _Jesus Christ_ ) cuts into his thoughts blandly, almost monotone as she says, "So, are we just going to stand here or?"

"Right!" Harley coughs once, Peter nodding hastily and they both step away from each other at the same time, both blushing profusely. Peter shouldn't be feeling this way, he couldn't be feeling this way, not about Harley, not about a _boy_ , he's not into men, he's not-

MJ quirks an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes, a matching smirk growing before she starts to walk up the hill, towards the house, Ned following her quickly (he was still here too??) as she calls out behind her, "Come on, then!"

Peter looks over to Harley, seeing the other boy looking amused, the flusteredness from a few moments ago seemingly vanished as he looks back with a lopsided grin, tilting his head towards the house. "Shall we?" Peter nods dumbly, and tags along as they start after their friends, trying his hardest to slow his racing heart.

They make it into the party _finally_ , stepping immediately into the very, large, but very crowded living room. There was at least a hundred kids in here, dancing, jumping, some of them humping and grinding against one another in a way Peter knows their momma wouldn't be proud of them for, drinks in most everyone's hands, sloching around as they twist and tumble and laugh The music is _so_  loud, blaringly so, causing Peter sensitive ears to ring as soon as they step through the door, the floor vibrating and pulsating with the heafty bass. He winces, face scunching up as the almost annoying pop song fills the room, a song that is very clearly not his type. He doesnt mind pop songs, but when it just repeats the same verse over, and over, and _over_ , or when it's all about sex, Peter can't stand it. That's just so uncreative, man. And this song is a mixture of them both.

And, when he glances over to his friends, MJ looks unbothered, almost bored, Ned looks distracted, looking for Betty he assumes (Ned had told him about his master plan to ask Betty out a few days ago, about finding them at the party, charming them and then asking for a dance. Peter hopes for the best for him, for them, they'd be a cute couple), and Harley looks irked, probably for the same reasons as Peter.

Ned is the first to move, seemingly having spotted the person of his desires in the sea of bodies sloshing around the living room, and sets forth on his quest, parting through the sea, only glancing back at Peter once with a nervous look that he quickly reassured with a thumbs up and a yell of "You got this, dude!" that Ned probably couldn't even hear over the music.

MJ is next, yelling about getting snacks  before heading towards the kitchen. Peter glances over at Harley, who looks paralyzed, eyes wide as he stares at the swarm of people. "You wanna follow?" He shouts over the sound, and Harleys eyes dart over to him, still wide, full of nerves as he nods shakily. Peter gives him a hopefully reassuring smile, and doesn't think as he grabs onto Harley's wrist lightly, dragging him through the crowd and into the kitchen, Peter letting out a sigh of relief as the music is quieter in here, the walls blocking out some of the sound. The floor is still shaking like an earthquake though. At least they can hear themselves think now.

The room is huge, a big island smack dab in the middle of it, full of snacks (chips, cupcakes and chocolates, from the looks of it) and drinks, sat next to the snacks (different soft drinks, some water bottles and alcohol scattered about, multiple piles of red solo cups sat beside them). There isn't as many people in here, but still enough to where the room feels warm, and full of chatter.

Peter goes over to grab a drink, his nose instantly scrunching up as the strong bitter smell of alcohol burns his nostrils. He grabs a bottle of water for himself, and holds one up to Harley, shaking it slightly, asking if he wants it without words. Harley just snorts and shakes his head, sliding over next to Peter. "We're at a party, Pete, you gotta drink something stronger than water."

Peter grins at the nickname, knowing it means Harley's relaxing a little bit, probably because they aren't packing in a room like sardines anymore, before shrugging and leaning back against the cabinets, opening the plastic bottle with ease. "I'm not much of an alcohol drinker."

Harley grabs a cup and fills it with Coke, before grabbing the small bottle of rum beside it, pausing to look Peter up and down with a teasing grin. "Yeah, you don't seem like the type."

Peter rolls his eyes at him, chuckling as he watches Harley spike his drink with the toxic substance. "You dont seem like the type either."

Harley copies his earlier shrug, replacing the cap on the small bottle, placing it back down and grabbing his finished drink before smirking up at Peter, eyes alight with mirth. "Small town, not much to do other than to drink and smoke."

"I wouldn't know." Peter takes a sip of his water as Harley settles beside him, both of them standing side by side against the white marble countertop and dark mahogany wood cabinets, Harley sipping lightly at his own concoction.

He quirks an eyebrow at Peter, smirk widening. "Well now you do, hey?"

Peter lets out a laugh, just loud enough to be heard over the music, not noticing how Harley brightens at the sound, looking back towards the doors leading to the living room as MJ steps through it, chocolate cupcake in hand, leaving the boys to themselves. Well, as much to themselves as they can be with, what, fifteen other people in the room. "Yeah, I guess I do."

They continue to chat for a while, their drinks getting less and less full as they loosen up more and more over time. Peter isn't sure if the alcohol is partially responsible for Harleys relaxation, but seeing as it was a mixed drink and didn't have all that much in it, Peter can almost relish in the fact that _he_  is the reason why, still ignoring his mind as it focuses on Harley's throat as he swallows the burning liquid, on his mouth as he talks, on his laugh as he chuckles at Peter's bad jokes, and he ignoring his stuttering heart too, his flushing face. It means nothing. It means _nothing._

Suddenly, the room is filled with counting, and then the sound of a guitar and bass, stereotypical of a normal pop song, but Peter can tell this ain't no normal pop song, oh no no. It was a  _country_  pop song, and oh man, if Peter didn't capitalize on this moment he'd be kicking himself for the rest of his life. A country song, seemingly about partying if the few lyrics he heard say anything, playing while he's here, at a party, with a _country boy_. The stars have aligned, and Peter will not let the opportunity go to waste.

He isn't thinking as he grabs Harley's hand and starts dragging him out to the living room, cackling when he sees Harley's already distraught face, knowing that he knows what Peter is thinking. "Pete-"

"Nuh uh, nope, I don't care what you say. You are from the south, and a country song is on, we are dancing, dammit!" He grins wickedly, and Harley groans, but he has a large smile and a very obvious blush on his face, even as they enter the dark, filled room once more. Peter doesn't know where this random confidence has come from, but he is definitely not complaining if it gets him to do this, dancing, jumping and laughing his ass off as he watches Harley's attempts at dancing, his long arms flailing and body wiggling in ways Peter never thought he'd see, definitely much more relaxed. Peter can't seem to look away from the boy (even though he's pretty sure he saw Ned and Betty dancing a few feet away), giggling and dancing stupidly right alongside him.

He is still holding onto Peters hand as they dance. Peter couldn't complain about that, either.

After a few minutes of this, the song fades out, and both of them are left gasping for air, laughing breathlessly, Peter's stomach aching with the strength of his giggling, his face hurting with how wide he's smiling, and all of his worries have faded away, stuffed into the back of his mind. The only thing that matters to Peter is the here and the now, and Harley is here, and they are the now, this moment is now. They stare at each other, Harley is grinning from ear to ear, his eyes so light and airy, like fluffy cumulus clouds, and they're shining, so bright and warm and _happy_. He's still panting, his face is flushed, his hair all over the place and there's a bit of sweat beading on his forehead, but he looks more alive, more carefree than he has been since he's gotten to New York, since Peter has known him. It's a _extremely_ good look on him, accentuating all of the features of his face and making him glow, making him shine, and Peter is suddenly very aware of how close they are standing to each other again, how they are _still holding hands_ , and... of how there's a slow song playing now, couples slowdancing around them as they stand and stare at each other.

It makes his breath hick, butterflies swarming in his stomach, his face burning with much more than just physical exertion, but he still feels confident, his worries, the real world, still tucked away, still living in the moment. And so, he continues not to think, taking their conjoined hands and pulling Harley closer, placing a hand lightly on his hip. Harley freezes, tenses up, and Peter almost pulls away before Harley is relaxing again, even placing his own hand on _Peter's_ hip, making Peter's breath stutter in his chest.

"Okay?" He barely hears Harley's whisper over the sound of gentle guitar strings and of a soft, soothing masculine voice singing, but he does anyways, and he nods rapidly, * _yes, this is okay, hell yes-_ *

They start to sway slightly in a circle, close enough that it isn't straining, their conjoined hands up in the air next to their heads, hands still on each others hips, but far enough away from each other to where it's slightly awkward, like they're saving room for Jesus or something.

But, Peter finds that on their next rotation around, their small steps matching the light beat of the song, they are an inch or two closer. And the next, they are even closer. And the next, closer again, until their chests are almost brushing, their arms entangled and their legs almost tripping over each other as they step and spin.

It's three quarters of the way through the song when Peter looks up again, having watched his feet for most of the song so he didn't trip up and make a fool of himself, and he swears his heart stops as he does. Sure, he noticed them getting closer together, but it wasn't until his very moment that he realizes just _how close_  they really were. Their noses were almost touching, almost rubbing against each other. A little bit closer, and they would be. Peter could almost feel Harley's breath brush against his face, his mouth, as he breathes, smelling lightly of rum and coke. He can almost see light freckles scattered around his nose, the dots barely noticable normally. And, when he reconnects their eyes, Peter can see _everything_. He sees the reflections of the spotlights in the room, making the blue in Harley's eyes pop, showing off their shine, he can see his own reflection in his dilated pupils but just barely, he can see the flecks of darker blues and even some light green scattered around his irises, giving a deep, rich color to his eyes, he can see the emotions Harley is feeling, all of them, the shock, the nerves, the happiness, the concern, the fear, the heat, the _longing_ , and Peter is lost, lost in his gaze, lost in those eyes, lost in the moment, the music, the other people all vanishing into the background as he looks at his boy he's so infatuated with, that he feels so so much for, that he cares so much about, and suddenly he is getting closer, they're leaning forward, they're almost there, lips almost touching, almost there, and-

_"Help! Somebody help, there's a fire!"_

Peter violently flinches back, breaking out of Harley's hold as he looks around frantically, trying to find the source of the scream, trying to find where it came from, ignoring his racing heart, his sweaty palms, his heavy breathing-

"Peter?" Harley's whisper breaks through his panic, and he glances over to see him, seeing him curled up into himself, his hands cradled to his chest, face full of _hurt_  and _guilt_ , and Peter feels his heart ache but he cant focus on that right now, can't focus when somebody is  _screaming_ , but nobody around him is running, or trying to find shelter, still dancing, still singing, still wasted. * _Not in this building then, but it has to be around here- it has to- I have to-_ *

"I-I-" Peter gulps, reconnecting their eyes, feeling so so _so_  bad for what he's about to do, what he _has_ to do. He whispers breathlessly, "I-I gotta go."

Pain and tears fill Harley's eyes, the storm rolling into his gaze faster and harder than Peter's ever seen it before, and he realizes how bad this situation looks, it looks like he's running away, like he doesn't want this-

Wait. Pause. Want this? Want _what?_  The complete reality of their situation crashes into Peter at full force and rattles him to the core. He had slow danced with Harley. He had almost _kissed Harley_. He had almost kissed _a boy_. And he had _wanted_  to. A boy who he met, what, last week? Two weeks ago? A boy, who treated him like shit for half of that week, only to get _beat up_  for him, because of him? A boy, who he barley even knows, who barely knows _him_? A boy, _period_ , in general?! Peter wasn't gay! He wasn't! He- he thought he wasn't- but- but now-

God his head is spinning, and he can _still hear screaming_ , and _fuck_ , he has no time for this!

"I-it's not you," he blurts out, "I swear- I just- I-" He stumbles past Harley, only looking back briefly to say "I'm sorry." before he books it out the front door, pausing only for a second to send a text to Ned and MJ, saying whats happening, where he's going, to look after Harley (* _please look after him im sorry-_ *), before he starts running down the road.

He doesn't have his normal suit with him, having hoped that maybe not every party he's ever gone to would end in him leaving as Spider-Man, but so far the streak seems to be holding up. Liz's party, Homecoming, and now this.

Luckily, Mr. Stark found a way to put the Iron Spider suit into a bracelet form, so he always has a suit on him _just in case_  of situations like these, so he feels for the metal on his wrist, looks around quickly and double taps it, the nanotech forming around him midrun as he tries to create a plan in his muddled, chaotic mind.

He heard the scream say it was a fire (* _you tried to kiss him-_ *), so he knows what he's going up against, (* _what is wrong with you-_ *) but he doesn't know how bad or big it is. (* _youre so stupid-_ *) Just get there, (* _he looked so hurt-_ *) try to get any civilans still trapped out, (* _and it's all your fault-_ *) and then assess the damage afterwards.

* _God, what have you done?!?_ *

He pushes those thoughts away as the screams get closer, and sound of crackling wood and the burning stench of smoke filling his senses. He doesn't have time to worry about that right now, to _think_  about that right now, when peoples lives are still on the line.

He sees the fire, a house fire, not major yet, and leaps into action, ignoring the feeling of his heart breaking, and the sight of Harley's crushed expression burning into his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close and yet, so far. Spider-Man is a cockblock.
> 
> The songs I envisioned the boys listening to in this chapter: 
> 
> The 'country pop' song: "21" By Hunter Hayes  
> The slow song: "I Swear This Time I Mean It" by Mayday Parade
> 
> You dont have to imagine these songs being used, imagine whatever ones you want! But these are what I based the songs off of lol


	12. First Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was supposed to be more for this chapter but after... Recent news (if you don't know what im talking about, look up Spider-Man Sony Disney news), all of the motivation has been sucked out of me. For the moment anyways. I'll get it back, don't worry, this fic isn't going anywhere, but i thought eh, this chapters good enough, what i wanted to write can be written into another chapter and i really dont want to write more for this chapter right now sooooo here it is. It may not be great, but it's okay for now.
> 
> And hey, maybe it'll help some of you feel better if you're in the same funk I am. Who knows? (Even though it's mostly an angsty chapter but shhh MJ comes to the rescue its okay--)
> 
> Hopefully Disney and Sony (can get their shit together-) can sign a deal and keep our Spider-Baby in the MCU, where he belongs.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Yeeeah, so, uh, remember when Harley said he _wasn't_  going to do anything with Peter? That he _shouldn't_ , because he was just going to _hurt_  him _more_ if he did?

Remember when Michelle told him not to fuck things up again? And how he had told himself, _promised_  himself that he wouldn't? That he'd make _sure_  that he wouldn't?

Yeah. Well.

He fucked up. Majorly.

...By almost kissing Peter.

It wasn't like he was _trying_  to do something with Peter at the party, quite the opposite actually. He had been trying to be _friendly_ , especially since Peter was one of the only people he had known at the party, and he had pushed his feelings away, trying to only talk to him and staying a reasonable distance away from him in the kitchen, instead of pressing up against him and kissing his plush lips until they were bruised like he had wanted to all damn evening (he just looked so fucking good like hello how was it fair to look like that?-). He had held back, he had been _responsible_ , but then Peter had grabbing his hand with that damned cunning grin of his, toothy and dorky and so Peter, with his big doe caramel eyes that Harley can't help but to melt for, and had dragged him onto the dance floor, danced with him like a madman, then pulled him in for a slow dance, had _almost kissed him_... And ran away. All of this happening within, what, ten, fifteen minutes? Maybe?

Let him reiterate. Peter had _slow danced_ with him, almost _kissed_  him, and then cringed and ran away from him like his life had depended on it.

Part of him is screaming that it was a good thing he ran away, that it was stupid of him to even try anything with the boy, that he was _leaving_ in a month or so, and that it was better off this way... But the other part of him couldn't help but to be hurt.

I mean, was it that bad? Slow dancing with him? Being close to him? ...kissing him?

Was _he_  that bad?

Who was he kidding, of course he was.

How _idiotic_  was he? To think that someone like Peter, someone so kind, so sweet, so _perfect_  like Peter would ever be with someone so broken, so miserable, so _pathetic_  like him?

It was laughable, his hope. Hilarious.

* _Fucked up, indeed._ *

A body bangs into his roughly, having tipped over haphazardly in their drunken state, crashing Harley out of his haze. They giggle out an apology, but Harley barely hears it, can barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears, the burning in his eyes, the breaking of his heart into tiny little pieces almost like the glass shards that had scattered near his mothers feet the night his father had left for scratch tickets and never came home.

Wow, how poetic of him. How dramatic of him.

* _I can't cry here_ *, he thinks even as his eyes burn more almost as if in disagreement. There's too many people, too much noice, too much _everything._

And so, he stumbles towards the front door before freezing abruptly, almost knocking into someone else while doing it. He couldn't go out this way, this is the way _Peter had_  gone. To, you know, _get away from him._ He probably wouldn't appreciate Harley following him. Especially if Peter was still on the step or something. What a mess that would be. * _This is already a fucking mess, how much worse could it get?_ *

He still doesn't risk it, can't risk it, and turns heel, starting towards the next best destination his scattered brain can think of right now. A bathroom. Because where else do teenagers go to cry when they're heartbroken after getting hurt by their crushes?

How stereotypical of him.

He almost fumbles his way in there with no incidents, getting just a few steps away from the door, his vision blurring more and more and his chest feeling tighter and tighter with every step, before a hand grabs his elbow and holds him back gently. He doesn't thinks it's Peter for a second. His heart doesn't jump in stupid fucking hope for a second. It _doesn't._

"Hey, nerd, I was looking for you." Michelle (* _Michelle?_ *) greets, tugging him around so that he's facing her slightly, a small, almost gentle? (Was he seeing that right?) smile on her face.

Harley just blinks at her dumbly, blinking some of the tears from his eyes, feeling pure shame when one of them falls, even though he wipes it away quickly, hoping she didn't notice. Even though she most likely did. * _She was looking for me? What? Why?_ *

*W _hy would anyone look for me?_ *

"...what?"

She rolls her eyes, but even _that_  seemed off, less harsh than normal, the look on her face almost... Pitying. Yeah, she definitely saw the tear, goddamn it. "I was looking for you, dumbass. Me and Emily," She points her thumb back at a girl standing behind her, all blond hair and brown eyed glory, waving shyly, before continuing. "Are going to find Ned and his girlfriend and play some cards. Wanna join?"

Harley takes a sharp, almost gasp of a breath, his chest still twisting tighter and tighter, and forces a smile onto his face, hoping it looks decent enough to pass off that he's okay. Even though he's not. He's very very not okay. It probably doesn't work, he probably looks as much of a mess as he feels, but its the thought that counts, right? He pushes past the big lump in his throat, pushes past the urge to sob and weep in his stupid, stupid heartbreak, and shakes his head, telling her "N-No, I'm good, thanks. Im just gonna-"

He points to the bathroom, and goes to turn around, to book it into the bathroom and let everything go, but the hand on his arm tightens its grip and doesnt let go, doesn't let him leave. He doesn't turn around again though, the tears starting to fall even as he tries to hold them back. He wipes them away with the hand not being held back as he hears Michelle tell the other girl, Emilia or whatever, something before dragging him into the bathroom (* _wait, what, why is she-_ *) and locking the door behind them.

Only then does she let go of his arm, turning to lean against the wall, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him, looking unamused, but there's a hint of something else there. If Harley didn't know better, he'd say it was care. Concern. "Don't take it to heart."

"W-what?" He breathes, so confused and hurt and * _Why is she in here with him? What is going on-_ * He just wants to cry in peace, man, but he can't even do that right, fucking hell.

She rolls her eyes again, harder this time, and huffs slightly. "Peter. I saw what happened." He feels a shot of fear and his eyes widen at the implications of her words. She had _seen_ them,  dancing, _slow_  dancing, almost _kissing_... Jesus. Who else had seen? Who else had seen him be left there, abandoned by his best friend (oh who was he kidding), his crush, in the heat of the moment? Who else had seen his _humiliation_  first hand??

As if she could read his mind (his face most likely showed all of his fear and embarassment), Michelle adds on with a groan, "No one else saw but me, dipshit. I only saw because I was watching out for you two. That's not the point." Her eyes soften slightly, but there's still an edge to them, a detemination in them that makes Harley nervous. Add that to the mess of emotions he's feeling right now. "Him, leaving? Running away like that? Don't take it to heart. Peter is like that, finicky. He randomly remembers things he has to do, and runs off, wherever he is. Doesnt matter what he's doing."

Harley lets out a humorless laugh that mostly sounds like sobbing, and turns towards the sink, more tears of shame falling, not believing a word of what she just said. That's just an excuse, it had to be. It was too good to be true otherwise. Peter didnt leave because of him? _*Yeah, right._ * "You don't have to make excuses for him, you know. He doesn't want me, I get it."

He can _feel_  the heat of Michelle's glare on his back, and he stiffens up immediately, freezing in place, hands cluching on the sides of the sink, staring down the drain. "I am not making _excuses_  for him, Harley. You think I care if you guys have relationship problems?"

Harley sputters at the word 'relationship', and turns his head to stare at her incredulously. "We aren't in a-" Her glare deepens, hardens, and he shuts his trap, turning to look back at the sink. He tenses up again, expecting her to snap his head off, to tell him off again, to freak at him for fucking it up again.

But she doesn't. Instead, she lets out a loud, long puff of air, and her voice is softer when she tells him, "Its not you, Harley. Trust me."

"How do you know?!?" Is spit out of his mouth before he can even think, and he can see some tear drops drip into the bright white ceramic, the salty liquid fitting in perfectly with the drops of water that were already scatter from the last use. He deflates, practically curling into himself as his body shutters on its own accord, letting out a quiet sob. "'Cause it sure as hell felt like it was me. Like it was my fault that he-" He gestures helplessly to finish his sentence, his throat clogging up with mucus, snot. Perfect, now he was crying, really crying, snot and whines and all, in front of _Michelle_  of all people. Great, awesome, can this night get any better?!?

He hears another sigh, quieter this time, through his shaky breathing, before there's heafty pat and a hand lingering on his shoulder, heavy and surprisingly reassuring with its stability. "Did I tell you about the time Peter asked me out on a date?"

"Y-you guys d-d-dated?" Damn his emotions for causing him to stutter. He was genuinely surprised though, Michelle seemed more like a... Sisterly figure to Peter than anything else. He hadn't even thought that maybe they had dated once upon a time.

Michelle snorts. "Yeah for, like, a week. He asked me to the movies, and then ten minutes into it, he ran out on me, saying something about having homework to do or something. I knew it was bullshit, and I told him as much, he apologized and took me out on another date, to a restaurant. He didn't even show up that time, saying he had forgotten about his aunt needed help with something for her work. It worked out well in the end, we're better off as friends, but still, it was a dick move." She shakes her head, and Harley lets out a wet chuckle, feeling a little lighter than before, the claws gripping his lungs loosening, an inkling of hope coming back in, even as he tries to squash it. He doesn't want to get his hopes up.

There's a pause, and Harley looks into the mirror, ignoring his red eyes, blochy cheeks, and snotty nose (* _ew_ *), and looking over to Michelle, who's now gazing back at him with an intense look. "Harley, you gotta understand, Peter..." She starts, before pausing again, almost for dramatic affect. Harley wouldn't put it past her. "He has a lot going on. With school, his aunt, the... Stark Internship." Harley notices her voice change as she says that, sounding amused almost, and he would've questioned it had she not continued, her voice going back to its soft but serious tone. "He has a lot going on right now. So he tends to be a little... Scatterbrained sometimes. That," She nods towards the door, towards the living room, towards where it all went down. "That was just a concequence of it. Nothing more. So, really," She pats his shoulder again firmly. "Don't take it to heart. It really wasn't because of you. I promise."

Harley sniffles again, but nods, surprising himself by somehow believing her words. Part of him is screaming not to believe it, that he's being guillable, naive, but the other... Well, he _wants_  to believe her. He wants to believe that it wasnt him, that he didn't fuck everything up, that maybe something  _did_ happen with Peter, that maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance?

It's so stupid, he thinks, to continue to long for Peter. He keeps telling himself over and over * _you shouldn't do this, you shouldn't want this, you're going to leave soon, itll all be for nothing_ *, but Harley can't help but to be selfish enough to want something anyways. To want _Peter_  anyways. Even if its for a month. A few weeks. Even if it was a day. And that's dumb too, because he barely knows Peter. Sure, he knows more than he did the first day, but he still doesn't know _enough_  to justify his feelings, to justify how deeply he feels for the boy.

And yet.

And yet, here he is, feeling these things, feeling these _feelings_ , this longing, this aching need, this _hope_.

He doesn't even know if Peter likes boys, he realizes. But after the slow dancing, the almost kissing... Harley's pretty sure Peter isn't straight. And that's enough for him. (* _Is that sad? Oh well._ *)

"Feel better now?" Michelle's stare has gone back to blank, to not caring, not concerned, though now he can tell it's just a facade. She _does_  care. After all, why would she have done any of this if she didn't?

"Yeah, yeah." He nods again, rubbing at his eyes, before turning his head around to look at the real her instead of her reflection. "Thanks, Michel-."

"MJ." She cuts up abruptly, curling a loose hair around her ear in a faint show of embarassment, and Harley's smile widens slightly.

"MJ." He echoes, and now it's her turn to nod once, turning towards the door.

"Clean yourself up, you look like a mess." She says bluntly, unlocking the lock and opening the door, the loud music rushing back into the room as she looks back at him once more. "Don't take too long, we're playing cards, and we won't wait on you." And with that, she's gone just as quickly as she came, head up and confidence coming off of her in waves.

Harley just snorts in amusement as the door reshuts, and he glances back up at his reflection, grimancing. He does look like a mess. Ugh. As he grabs a wad on toilet paper (* _fancy stuff_ * his brain unhelpfully supplies), runs it under the water and washes his face with it, he allows his mind to wander a bit, to think back on Michelle-  _MJ's_  words and their meaning.

She had pretty much told him that its Peter fault, and not his. The stereotypical 'it's not you, its me' speech, except told from their mutual friend. And he believed her, surprisingly. Well... Mostly. There was just one thing that his mind kept hitching on.

She had said that Peter always had a reason for why he left her on their dates, telling her it was for homework, or for his aunt. Even though she had said that she knew they were bullshit. So, what was the reason for tonight? What was important enough that he had to flinch back, _right at that moment,_  and leave so suddenly? What ever could be the cause of a reaction like that?

He didn't know. He _wouldnt_ know, not until he asked anyways. But, should he bring it back up? Should he bring up tonight after this? It would be awkward for sure, but... would it lead to something? Would it lead to _more?_  Or would it lead to more heartbreak, lead to Peter telling him he hadn't meant it or something? Was it worth it, to find out why he had left if it meant making things awkward between them? Maybe he should just leave it alone.

Besides, as he said earlier, he didn't really know Peter all that well. Even if him asking _did_  lead to something more, it would only be a _physical_  attraction, mostly anyways, and Harley wasn't sure that was what he wanted. Well, no, he was _definitely_  sure that wasn't what he wanted. Not with Peter. He wanted to get to know Peter, not like the silly 20 queations game they had played, but really, _really_  get to know him. Get to know his secrets, his ambitions, his dreams. Get to know what makes him tick, what makes him get up in the morning and go everyday. Get to know his story, the things he has been through that people kept alluding to.

He wanted Peter to get to know _him_. He wanted to be able to trust him, to tell him everything that he has been through. To tell him whatever Peter wants to know about him, and to feel like he can be open and honest with him. He wants to be able to feel comfortable, to feel safe around Peter, like he could say anything and Peter wouldn't care. He wants to feel that _connection_ , that bond, to Peter, that feeling of knowing someone right down to their soul, and the feeling of knowing that someone else knows you the same way.

He wants that so badly. He aches for it, _yearns_ for it, yearns to know Peter in every way. On his bad days, his good days, and his in betweens. Everything. He wants to know every little thing about Peter middle-name Parker.

Maybe that's where he should start. With getting to know his middle name.

Harley styles his hair back into place with his fingers, and looks himself over one more time before nodding and leaving the bathroom, apologizing to the person waiting, a new found determination burning inside of him.

He was going to get to know Peter Parker first, before they did or went anywhere else. He was going let Peter get to know him, if that's what he really wanted. And hopefully, one day, someday, he's going to find out the reason why Peter left him tonight. The  _real_ reason. He was going to try to be worthy of it.

But, for now, he had to go beat his friends asses at poker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this isn't getting resolved too quickly, i just didn't want this story to get super angsty ehhh this chapters bad anyways im sorry


	13. First Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter. Oh man.  
> I wrote this chapter three fricken times. The first time I wrote about half a chapter before realizing it sucked, and i didn't like where it was going. The second time I wrote an ENTIRE chapter, 5000 words and all, before realizing again that I didnt like where it went or how it was written, and I forgot that Peter had to feel some guilt for just leaving Harley at the party. I couldn't just not include that lol
> 
> And then I wrote this, and I'm so so so much happier with it (thankfully, because I was not rewriting this chapter again lmao). I just wanted this chapter to be right, cause it's an important one. Peter finally, finally realizes he isn't straight, we get some more Aunt May being a good ass parent and some good old hurt/comfort with lots of fluff at the end.
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I do :D

He rolls open the window to his bedroom, climbing (well, more like stumbling) into his room and clinging to the wall as he shuts it again with the foot, jumping to his feet with a loud groan, the sound vibrating his clenched teeth. He wasn't hurt all that bad really, just some burns and cuts. Normal things for the superhero vigilante, but they still hurt like a bitch, even if they'll heal in about an hour or two. * _Better than a gunshot wound to the chest_ *, he muses, shuttering at the memory of the robbery gone rogue and the extremely painful scar it left, physically and mentally.

He walks (limps) towards his bed, wincing as he collapses onto it, the burns covering his torso and back screaming in protest. "May??" He almost yells out, looking his wounds over while he waits for her responce.

The fire hasn't been the worst thing in the world (definitely not the worst thing he's ever seen, he doesnt think anything could beat homecoming), but it was still a house fire. And therefore, still bad. Luckily, most of the family had already escaped the house, but there had been one still left inside, the son of the family, that he had had to save. He had gotten trapped due to falling debris, but was luckily (mostly) unharmed when Peter reached him, so all Peter had to do was put him on his hip and find a way out of there. The only issue was, debris was _still falling_ , and he had gotten kind of smacked up on his way out. Read: where he got his burns and cuts. He got the boy out unscathed though, and that's all that matters. Peter didn't stick around to find out either the fire was accidental or arson, but either way, the house was completely destroyed, no way to salvage it. His heart goes out to the family, and he hopes they have the money/the insurance in order to rebuild or to find a new home.

A lot of people (The Daily Bugle) assume that because he leaves after everyone is safe, that he doesn't care about what happens to the civilians or, in this case, the family, when really it's quite the opposite. There's been many a night he stayed awake, staring at his ceiling (Well, the bottom of the top bunk of his bunk bed), wondering how the people he's saved are doing. Whether they survived their wounds, whether they got home safe or not if he doesn't bring them home, whether they're doing okay or not now. He doesn't just stop caring about people, he wasn't heartless. No matter what other people thought.

"Peter? Is that you??" May calls back, practically running into his room, stopping in the doorway once she sees him on the bed, cut up and burned but in one piece.

"I'm okay!" He tells her immediately, and he can see her body untense, relaxing slightly at his words.

She gives him a glare, and he smiles sheepishly at her as she struts across the room to stand in front of him, grabbing his chin gently and turning his head from side to side, probably checking to see how bad he was hurt. "What happened this time? I thought you were going to relax tonight?"

"That was the plan." He grumbles, looking down and attempting to pick at his nails and failing when he realizes he's still in the nanotech suit. He then sighs, shoulders hunching down. "I didn't want to leave the party."

"Then why did you?" She quirks an eyebrow at him, face stern, eyes serious.

"I-I heard someone screaming, May, about a fire and I can't just _ignore_  it! I couldn't just stand there and do nothing about it." He crosses his arms, huffing slightly. He _couldn't_  ignore it, even if he tried. Damned enhanced hearing. Enhanced _everything._

"I know, baby." She copies his sigh, her body relaxing more and his eyes softening. "I just know you were looking forward to tonight."

He just shrugs at that, chuckling with slight bitterness. "I'm getting used to it." He loves being Spider-Man, don't get him wrong, but _man_ , does it always mess up his plans. He just wants to go and hang out with his friends, gosh darn it.

She lets out another softer sigh, and runs a hand through his now sweaty, messy hair, a small, sad smile on her face that quickly drops. "You shouldn't have to." He shrugs again, and she drops her hand, and the subject, starting to walk towards the bathroom across the hall from his own room. "Take the suit off, I'm checking your wounds."

"May-" he starts to whine, but she cuts him off immediately, her voice carrying from across the hall.

"Ah, ah, ah! You know the rules, you go out, I check you over, simple!"

He sighs loudly to make sure she hears his displeasure, but does as he's told, double tapping his wrist and watching as the nanotech dissipates, forming back into a small, barely noticable bracelet. That was a rule that had started a while ago, when she first found out about him, and had come home one day to find him passed out from blood loss after telling her he was fine earlier that day. That was a situation he _never_ wanted to relive, waking up at the tower with May and Mr. Stark hovering over him, and having May yell and scream at him like no tomorrow while Mr. Stark scolded him fron the sidelines. That was _not_  fun.

Thankfully, he's still wearing the clothes he wore to the party underneath his suit, so he isn't naked for anything, although it seems his poor clothes are destroyed due to the fire. Goodie.

His aunt comes back out, a medium sized handbag and a few bottles in hand, and sits down beside him with huff, turning to face him, her face scrunching up as she looks at his clothes. She tsks, and Peter rolls his eyes, before she's running her hands over his body, checking to see where all of his wounds are.

"I'm _fine_ , May. Only a few cuts and burns, nothing serious." He tries again, only to get a sharp glace in his direction, telling him to shut it or else.

When she only finds a few scratches and burns (* _like I said she would!_ *), she tells him to take off his shirt (which he does with a bit of whining and embarassment), opens up her handbag, grabs a cotton pad, puts some antiseptic on it, and starts to clean out his wounds one by one. He hisses at the burn, but mostly stays quiet, being used to this feeling as well. Its all par for the course, after all.

"Did you tell your friends where you went?" May breaks the silence after a few minutes, and Peter nods firmly, wincing slightly as she wipes at a deeper cut.

"Yeah, I texted Ned and MJ to let them know."

She looks up at him for a second with a questioning look, before refocusing back on the wounds. "What about your other friend? The new one, what was his name again? Harbor? Harry? Hasbro?-"

He barely hears her sad, sad attempts at his name through the sheer panic and _guilt_ that floods over him in that moment, his mind finally reminding him of what happened _before_  he had left the party.

Jesus, how could he have forgotten about that? Forgotten that he had slow danced with Harley, had _almost kissed him_ , and had left him there for the wolves right after?? How could he have forgotten that?

But let me tell you, now that Peter has remembered, he can't seem to forget, can't seem to stop replaying the moment over and over and over again. The dancing. The laughing. The big, goofy smile on Harley's face. The slow dancing. The feeling of their chests brushing. The feeling of heat at the close proximity they had found themselves in. The look on Harley's face, in his eyes when Peter looked up at him, full of hunger, full of _want_. The _kiss._  The kiss that he had leaned into. The kiss that he had longed for. The kiss that he had _wanted._  Well, the almost kiss. * _Same difference._ * And then the scream, the flinch, the look of pain on Harley's face. Oh god, the _look on Harley's face_. The way his bright expression had crumbled and scrunched up, the way his eyes had darkened so quickly, turning from a warm summer sky to a dark cold winters night faster than Peter could blink, the way he had shown his feelings, the sadness, the hurt, the _guilt_  that he had no reason to feel, so prominently, so easily, especially in the glimpse Peter had caught right before he had fled into the night. Harley probably thought he did something wrong, he probably thought it was all _his_  fault, which would be any more wrong. It was Peter that ran away, _Peter_  that was a secret superhero vigilante that had to save lives no matter the time of day, but Harley didn't know that. Oh god, what had he done?

But at the same time, as his guilt was swirling and churning inside of him, a striking fear as also creeping around, curling around and squeezing his lungs tightly, making him feel like the air was knocked out of him. He had _almost kissed Harley_. He had almost kissed _a boy._  And he had _wanted to_. That doesnt make any sense to him, his mind cant seem to compute it, the situation not working in the formula of his life, his brain just shouting out * _error, error, error!_ * How could he have done that, how could he have _wanted_  that? He wasn't gay, he was straight! Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, but _he wasn't it!_  He's always liked girls before, always, hell, he liked Liz for the longest time, and he had a crush on MJ not too long ago! So he can't just randomly start to like boys now!

...right? That can't just happen, can it? It can't just be like a switch, where one minute your straight and you flip it and oops, you're gay now. That _can't_  be how it works, right?? Oh god, what if he is gay now? What if he just likes guys now? * _No! No! That's not how this works!_ * It can't be. It can't be. It can't be-

"Pete?" A hand swipes at his cheek and he flinches back, staring up wide eyed at his aunt, her eyes also wide staring back, light brown meeting darker brown, her hand hovering in the air inbetween them. Her forehead creases, her eyes filling with concern. "Are you okay? You spaced out there. You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No! No." He croaks out, his heart racing like a race horse and his chest tight. "I'm good, I'm fine." * _Im fine, I'm fine, I have to be. It doesn't mean anything, it doesn't-_ *

His aunts hand rubs his cheek again, curling his hair behind his ear in the process, the hand resting there afterwards, her concern noticeably growing. "You don't seem okay, Peter. What's going on? You seem upset by something?"

He swallows tightly, feeling his eyes start to burn, and interupts her by saying, "I messed up, May."

Yeah, that's one way to put it. * _Messed up._ * More like he screwed everything up with someone he was trying to get to know, someone he _wanted_  to get to know, someone he wanted to be his new best friend, maybe more- * _stop it, stop it, nothing more, you're_ straight _, Peter, straight!_ *

Suddenly, her face drops and her eyes grow larger, not with shock, but with pity, a small comforting noice escaping her, probably without her even realizing it. She rubs his cheek again, trying to be reassuring. "Oh sweetie, whatever happened, I'm sure you tried your best to save them-"

* _Save them?_ * "What?" He stares at her incredulously, at her sad, sympathetic expression for a few seconds before realizing that she thinks something happened _at the fire_. "No, no, it's not- it's not like that, I-I saved everyone at the fire, I just-" His breathing starts to quicken, his mind running in circles, and he stands, starting to pace back and forth in front of his aunt, a burst of anxious energy surging through him. "A-At the party, we were talking in the kitchen when I-I heard a country song come on and I thought it's be f-funny at make him dance to it, you know, cause hes from Tennessee, s-so we danced, and it was fun, so so fun, right?, but then, a slow song came on but I felt super confident for s-some reason and I w-wanted to dance with him so we danced to that too, but then the lighting was so nice and he looked _so good_ , May, and I couldn't help myself so we _almost kissed_  but then I heard the screaming so _ran away_  and left him there and now I messed everything up, and he won't want to be friends with me anymore, and-"

"Woah, woah, Peter!" He feels her hand grab his arm, and he gasps for air, having said all of that in one breath, ranting and fumbling as words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could think about them. He feels himself shaking in her grasp, having stopped his pacing, and he can feel a cool wetness dripping down his face, pooling at the bottom of his chin and dripping onto his bare chest or onto the floor, his vision blurry and his breath coming out in short, quick gasps. "Sweetheart, sit down, come here." She tugs him over gently, and he doesn't fight her as she sits him down and pulls him close, having him lean against her side, his face buried into her neck, now sobbing lightly against her. "Breathe, Peter, it's okay, just breathe."

He shakes his head, whimpering. "I-I-It's not o-okay, I m-messed up and-"

"Shhh, no, you didn't, love, I'm sure you didn't." She reassures gently, running a hand up and down his back with a soft, careful touch. "It's okay, you're okay."

They stay that way for while, Peter crying into his aunts neck/shoulder, and May rubbing his back and murmuring soft reassurances into his ear, until his sobs have all but stopped, his breathing almost steady besides a few hicks and shutters and his tears having stopped a bit ago.

His mind is slower now, but his thoughts are still running, still taunting him, his questions still unanswered and his guilt still very much so there. How could he like Harley if he liked girls? Does he like Harley? How can he tell if he likes Harley? Even if he did like Harley, would he want to be around him now? How could he have just left Harley there like that, all by himself? Would Harley ever forgive him? * _Probably not. Why would he? You probably ruined everything, he probably hates you-_ *

"Pete, feeling any better now?" May murmurs gently, her hand now seeming to draw circles on his back, going around and around again.

"A-A bit." He answers honestly, his voice rough and scratchy due to his random breakdown.

She places her chin on the top of his head, her arms wrapped around him protectively, and he shuts his eyes, listening to her heartbeat, focusing on the warm, calm safety of her embrace, of this moment. "Enough to try telling me what happened again? Maybe in more than one breath this time?"

He chuckles lightly at her tease, his lips twitching upwards before falling again, a soft sigh escaping him as he nods once, shakily, nervously, shifting in order to get more comfortable. He turns his body to fully face her, his head leaning against her shoulder completely and wrapping his arms lightly around her lower back, completing the hug they have formed. He takes a deep, shaky breath, his nerves churning in his stomach as he restarts his story, taking his time this time around.

"W-When we got to the party, it was really crowded in the living room, so me and H-Harley," he swallows at his name, feeling the strong guilt rising back up. His aunt murmurs "take your time" softly in his ear, and he nods to show he heard before continuing. "Me and Harley went into the kitchen, Ned and MJ going off on their own. We were just talking for a while about anything and everything, from school projects to how giraffes are going extinct." He let out ssomething that resembled a chuckle at that, remember how passionate Harley had been about it, how he had pretty much cried wolf at how awful the idea of living on an earth without 'those long necked bastards' was. "And then, a country song came on, and- and he's from Tennessee, and we have this running joke that he's a cowboy, because he's from the south, so I couldn't just let the opportunity go to waste, you know?" His aunt laughs at that, and it makes him smile slightly. "So I dragged him on to the dance floor, and we danced and laughed. And that was fine, that was a good time, it was all fine. But-" his smile drops, and his voice lowers again, going back to almost a whisper. "But then, a slow song came on. And- and I don't know what it was, but I didnt want the moment to end, so I, uh, I pulled him in. And we... slow danced together. That was fine too, you know, you can slow dance with your friend, whatever, but then- t-then- I-"

Tears fill his eyes again, a lump growing in his throat. He blinks away the tears, and forces past the lump to croak out quietly, barely a whisper, feeling so unbelievably ashamed as he admits, "I almost kissed him, May."

He pauses, holding his breath, waiting to see how she reacts. But she _doesnt_  react, not really. Her breath catches for a second, and her heart stutters, but aside from that, she just keeps rubbing his back, keeps holding him close, not seeming shocked, or concerned, or worried at all. After a few seconds, Peter decides to continue, stuttering out the rest of the story, a little faster and more off kilter. "I dont- I don't know why I did, b-but I did. And then, then I heard the scream, f-for the fire, r-right as we were about to- to... you know. And I ran away from him, and," He starts to speed up, starting to rant again. "May, he was so _heartbroken,_  I saw his face, he was so hurt, and I didn't mean to hurt him, but I _had to go_  and at the same time, I shouldn't have been kissing him _in the first place_  b-because I'm straight, or I thought that I was straight, I think I'm straight, but I also really, really wanted to kiss him, and I think he's really pretty, and he's so kind, and- and-" He feels himself getting worked up again, and lets out a whine, "I just don't understand, May. I shouldn't feel like this. What's wrong with me??"

There's a moment of silence, and Peter almost sobs, his rising anxiety making him think all of the worst things, that she didn't like him anymore, that she thinks he's a freak, a weirdo, that she hates him, but then she moves her head and presses a strong, firm kiss to the top of his head, tightening her grip on him and pulling him impossibly closer. " _Nothing_ , Peter. There is _nothing_  is wrong with you."

"Then what's going on??" He whines again, sounding like a scared baby, but not really caring at the moment either. He _was_  scared, he didn't understand, and he _couldn't figure it out_. Why does he feel this way? He _couldnt_  feel this way, _shouldn't_  and yet-

His aunt hums, the sound vibrating her chest. "Have you heard of bisexuality, Pete?"

He furrows his eyebrows together. "Y-Yeah? Of course I have, why?-"

And then it clicks. She's saying that she thinks _he_  is bisexual. Bisexual. You know, when you like both guys and girls.

He can like Liz and MJ in the past, like girls in the past, and like Harley, a boy, now because he was _bisexual_. Jesus, it was so obvious that he probably should have figured it out waaay sooner.

He was bisexual. And he had a crush on Harley. That's why he always found himself staring at the boy, and finding him cute. Why he was always laughing at his jokes even when they weren't all that funny. Why he wanted to get to know Harley so fricken bad, and wanted to figure him out like he was a fricken puzzle set, trying to put him together piece by piece. He had a _crush_  on him. Everything makes so much more sense now.

"Oh." He says dumbly, and his aunt snickers, his hand running up to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair gently.

"Yeah, _oh._ "

He feels himself relax, pleased, thrilled that the questions lingering in his head have been answered, he's not crazy, he's not weird, he's just bi, and that everything is right with the world again.

Hah, like it was that simple, right?

Because just as he starts to feel some semblance of happiness, like always, his guilt comes rushing back in and ruining his fun, showing him Harley's crushed, destroyed face, clearly heartbroken, just seconds before Peter had fled, and he flinches again, his smile instantly dropping.

Now, not only had he slow danced and almost kissed Harley, he had run off and left behind _his crush_  at a party where _nobody_  else knew him.

He saw Harley's face. He knew that Harley felt guilty, that he felt like it was _his_  fault. He knew that Harley was hurt, very hurt, and that it was his own fault. He _ran off_  on him right at a very serious moment between them without _any_  excuse. Harley probably hates his guts, and Peter wouldn't even blame it if he did.

It didn't matter that he had a crush on Harley if he had no fucking chance with him.

God fucking damn it.

He groans, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "What am I going to do, May? I ran out on him after trying to _kiss_  him! He probably hates me!"

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at him. "I doubt he hates you, Peter."

"You didn't see how he looked, he was so upset. So hurt." He hunches forward, feeling his sins crawling up his back (Yes, that was an undertale reference, he liked the game, sue him). "And it was all my fault."

"Then apologize, Pete. Simple."

"But what if he doesn't want to be near me again? What if he didn't even want the kiss, or- or, what if he doesn't want to be friends with me anymore? What if-"

"Peter," she cuts him off, voice soft but stern, almost scolding. "You said he looked hurt, right? Why would he look hurt if he didn't want to kiss you, or be friends with you?" She pauses, lets him sit on those words for a second, before continuing, her voice more gentle now. "Its clear he wants _something_  with you, Peter. I can't say it'll be more than friends, but from what I saw earlier today, him complimenting you and opening the door for you," she winks at him, and he flushes, a slight smile growing on his face even through his embarassment, "I think you may have a chance. You just gotta apologize, that's all."

He thinks over her words, and nods slowly, before frowning. "But what do I tell him? I can't exactly say I left to go to a fire because I'm Spider-Man."

She rolls her eyes again, chuckling. "Im sure you can think of an excuse, you're a smart boy." She pinches his cheek, and he smacks her hand away with very little strength, nowhere near enough to hurt her, pouting when she starts full on laughing. Once she stops, * _it wasnt that funny, jeez_ *, she says "but maybe do it tomorrow, cause we gotta finish your wounds, you _definitely_  need a shower, I love you, but you reek of fire smoke, and then you need to sleep, it's been a long night."

Oh shit he forgot about the wounds. He looks down at himself quickly as she starts shuffling through her bag again, not seeing any damage, and chuckling again. "My wounds are already healed, May."

"Wha?" She stops, and looks at him quizzically, before looking him over once, twice, and snorting loudly, zipping back her bag back up. "Your powers are still mind boggling to me. Can't make that shit up." He grins, feeling kind of proud for some reason, even though he really should be thanking the spider. Super healing was one power he would _never_  get tired of. She points to him, looking stern. "Still need a shower though."

"I know, I know, I can smell myself too." He really could, and the smoke smell felt like it was burning his nostrils every time he breathed. He's always hated the smell of fires, specifically if fire smoke, but after becoming Spider-Man, that hatred has only heightened by a million. Fire was never a good thing in a superhero's world.

She relents after that, getting up and going to put back the bottles and bag. Right as she was about to exit his room, he remembers another conversation he had with Harley earlier that night, and before he can think twice about it, he calls to her, "May?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" She stops in the doorway, the objects in her arms, her hair still curled and done up from earlier, though her makeup is taken off and she's now wearing her pjs and an old shirt, having no need to be all dolled up on a Friday evening.

"...thank you." His eyes dart to the ground, before he forces them back up, making sure to look her in the eyes as he says this. He wants her to know he means it, wants her to know how important she is to him. "I-I don't just mean for tonight, even though tonight was really cool too, I mean for- everything." He starts fidgeting, picking at a loose string on his jeans, maintaining eye contact and seeing her eyes light up, a smile growing on her face. "For, you know, taking care of me. For being cool, and letting me go to parties with my friends, for being relatively relaxed about having a superhero nephew, ignoring the first day." They both chuckle at that, and he can see her eyes start to water. And as soon as her eyes start to water, his do too, but he pushes through the tears, needing to tell her. "For- For helping me with my girl troubles, and, well, my boy troubles, and my homework and- and _everything_. But, most importantly," he pauses, seeing a few tears slip down her cheeks, her smile really wide now. He grins back, even as a few tears fall of his own. "Thank you for being there for me. After my parents died, after- after Uncle Ben, after everything that's happened. You didn't have to take me in, or take care of me, but you did, and I couldn't be more thankful for that. I know I can go to you for anything, and that... That means the world to me. You're amazing, Aunt May, and I'm so thankful to have you in my life. So, uh, yeah, thanks."

He blushes, finishing lamely, kind of embarassed at admitting all of this, but seeing his aunts reaction makes it all worth it. She rushes out, placing the objects in the bathroom before coming back in and placing both hands on either side of his face, pressing a long, hard, firm kiss onto his forehead, tears still pouring down her face. But they're happy tears, very happy tears if the large grin on her face says anything. She leans her forehead against his, shutting her eyes, whispering, "I love you so much, Pete. So so much. You're my world."

He chuckles wetly, shutting his eyes and leaning into her, coping her big goofy smile. "I love you too, May."

She leans back, and wipes her face with her hands, and points to him again, before pointing to the bathroom. "Shower, now. Before you make me cry even more, jeez."

He laughs, standing up and hugging her tight, having her hug back quickly, murmuring another "I love you, thank you" into her ear, before he pulls away and goes to his wardrobe, picking out some pjs to wear for the night. He then walks to the bathroom, seeing his aunt already gone out of his room, probably to the living room or her own room, and shuts the door to the bathroom behind him. He places the clean clothes on the counter next to the bottles and his aunts handbag, before looking into the mirror, and smiling lightly, feeling lighter than he has all day.

Most of his questions and insecurities had been answered, and his mind was finally mostly relatively quiet and calm.

He was bisexual. He liked both girls and guys. He has a crush on Harley Keener. And yeah, he may have fucked up by running off of him at the party, but all he had to do was apologize, and try his best to make it up to him.

And try his best, he would. He was going to make it up to Harley Keener if it was the last thing he ever does, god damn it.

With that thought, Peter strips and steps into the shower, a new found determination burning in his heart.


	14. First Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *checks when I last updated this* oh shit-  
> So uh, hey guys! I definitely haven't been neglecting this story ha ha ha-
> 
> Nah but for real, sorry about the long ass delay! Sadly, this is most likely going to be common with this story from now on, as college takes up most of my time now, and the rest is spent relaxing and procrastinating. A lot. Oops
> 
> I also had a bit of a writers block on this chapter, and it kind of shows so sorry about that ://
> 
> I have a few ideas for the next chapter, a few things I want to have happen, so it should be a super long one and maybe come out a little earlier than this one did?? Maybe? I'll try, but no promises.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and I love you all :')
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

_**'Hey techie. I'm sorry for leaving last night, Mr. Stark needed me at the lab for something and I had forgotten all about it :////'** _

Well, this wasn't what he was expecting to wake up to. Harley had been expecting Peter to apologize, to give him some excuse at _some point_ , thanks to MJ's words of wisdom, but he thought that Peter would wait for a bit, do it on Monday, at school, in person or something. But apparently not.

It's _way_  too early to deal with this right now. What time was it, anyways?

He groans, rubbing his blurry eyes and squinting to check the time in the corner of his phone screen. 11:57am.

Oh. Maybe not so early then. Whoops.

Still too early to deal with this shit. What does he even say to that? He knows Peter isn't telling the truth, partially because of MJ again but mostly because that's a really dumb excuse.

Like. Okay. Harley _guesses_  it could make sense. _Tony Stark_  (he really needs to ask about that) could've asked Peter to do something last night, and Peter _could_  have forgotten about it, but... remembering it right at that moment? That moment when Harley's mind went completely blank, and when all of his senses, all of his focus, was just _Peter, Peter, Peter?_  How could he have remember _right then?_

* _Maybe he wasn't as into it as you were, maybe it was just the heat of the moment for him-_ *

Ah, nope, stop it, brain. MJ said it wasn't you, and MJ never lies (at least not from what Harley's seen. She seems very against lying, prefering to tell people a blunt truth over a bullshit lie). Besides, during one of his replayings of the events in his head (and trust me, he replayed the moment many, many times in his head, maybe too many times), it seems like Peter wanted it too. His chocolate eyes had been hazy, full of heat and longing, his pupils dilated and he had been pulling Harley closer and closer, closer and closer-

What he's trying to say is that Peter's excuse just seemed like a biiiiig ass stretch.

Harley is considering telling him as such. He doesn't know if its the fact that he just woke up that making him brave (read: careless), or if it's the pettiness talking, but he just doesn't want to let Peter off the hook that easy. He did the ultimate dick move, leading Harley on and then leaving, practically blue ballsing him. so he has a right to be a liiittle petty about it. Right? Right.

God, this is way too much thinking for having just woke up.

Harley grumbles, blinking rapidly to get rid of the blurriness in his vision, before typing out his (slightly bitter) answer, putting his phone on vibrate, and snuggling back into the warmth of his blankets, his cocoon, resting his eyes. Yeah. Just resting his eyes. Just for a few more minutes.

**'and you had to go right at that moment?'**

Is that harsh? Probably. Does Harley care? Eeeeeh.

Unluckily for Harley's 'resting' time, Peter responds immediately, the vibrate extremely loud in the almost silent room, rubbing up against the blankets and making a loud _**RRRRR**_  right next to Harley's ear, making him jump about twenty feet into the air, eyes wide, now fully awake.

He groans again, considering just ignoring it and going back to bed, but he realizes that that's probably not a good idea, sits up, grabs the phone and checks the response.

_**'Yeah, I'm really really sorry, Harley. I'll make it up to you, I promise :('** _

He ignores the not-so-family-friendly images his brain unhelpfully supplies at what 'making it up to him' could mean (damn his hormonal teenage brain) and lets out a long, low sigh, giving in to Peter's apology. He doesn't want Peter to feel too too bad, Harley does still wants to get to know him after all. He wants _more_  than just getting to know him, (again, damn his brain) but ya know. Baby steps. He has a plan, or at least a semblance of a plan, and getting to know Peter Parker ( _really_ getting to know him) is number one on the list.

**'you better. What did Stark need you for?'**

He stands then, dropping the phone back onto the bed and goes to get dressed. He doesn't sleep in anything except boxers (pjs are just uncomfortable, no matter how cold New York winters are), so he just grabs an old ratty t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from the drawers, and puts them on, hearing his phone vibrating on the bed again, sounding a lot less loud now that he's actually awake. Once he's dressed and looking like a mess (he isn't going anywhere today, so he doesn't need to look good, or to _try_  at all, honestly), he walks back to the bed and grabs his phone again.

_**'He needed me for a project we're working on! I can't say what though, it's classified :/'** _

Harley snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief. Yeeeeah, cause that's not sketchy at all. For someone who's trying to get back on his good side, Peter is doing a terrible job. Luckily, Harley isn't actually all that mad at him. He could only imagine how bad this situation would go if he wasnt as forgiving, if he wasn't trying to woo Peter and maybe get the chance to date him. Or to be best friends with him, if he doesn't get that chance. Or to get in his pants. Either way.

**'Classified, huh? That's not suspicious at all. Lol'**   
**'How did the whole 'Im Tony Stark's personal intern' thing happen, anyways?'**

Time to put step one of his How-To-Get-To-Date-Peter-Parker plan into motion (well, finding out his middle name was the original first step, but this works too). To be fair, he was genuinely curious. I mean, how did Peter Parker from a random apartment in Queens of all people get to know _Tony Stark_? You know, one of the most well known people on the fricken planet, a billionaire and the _Iron Man_  himself? It wasn't that Harley doubted Peter's abilities, or that he thought that he was undeserving of the internship or anything. He definitely deserved it, Peter was one of the, scratch that, _the_ smartest person Harley knew, and was probably up there close to Tony Starks IQ. But there had to be _some_ sort of story behind how he got to become Tony Starks _personal_  intern, as Ned had gleefully pointed out on his first day.

And, really, Harley just wants to know. He's curious by nature (he is nosey, honestly, but thats what happens when youre raised in a small town where everyone knows everything about everyone) and now that he's bloomed a full blown crush on the city boy, that curiosity has grown tenfold. He wants to learn everything about Peter Parker, bit by bit by bit.

While waiting for Peter's response, he strolls out of his room, using the washroom quickly before following the smell of bacon and eggs to the kitchen, where Mr. David was stood, humming and dancing to himself as the eggs crackle and sizzle in the pan.

He must've heard Harley come into the room, because he turns his head and shoots a wide grin at him, placing the pan back onto the burner. "Hey, good morning, kiddo! How was the party?"

Mr and Mrs. Davis had already been asleep when Harley got home last night around 1am, so Harley hasn't seen either of them until now. It's not surprising that the first thing they'd do is ask about the party. Because of course they would. The only issue is, what the hell does he tell them? _"Oh yeah, it was good, except for when the boy I kind of definitely have a crush on ran out on me when we were about to kiss, but yeah it was fine, don't worry about it"_? Haha, yeah, no, not gonna happen.

Instead Harley just shrugs, leaning against the small breakfast nook that separates the kitchen and the dining room area, the faux granite countertops digging into his right side, just below his ribs. "It was good, I guess."

Mr. Davis looks up at him for a split second, in the middle of flipping the eggs, and raises an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"

"It wasn't _bad_ ," he emphasizes, eyeing the bacon that looks almost done, his stomach growling. "Just wasn't super exciting, that's all." He feels a vibrate in his hand, and checks his phone quickly, before Mr. Davis responds.

_**'Its a long story, but basically, I applied for a grant with Stark Industries, The September Foundation, and Mr. Stark accepted me, so I started working as a normal intern, but he liked my stuff so much that he made me his personal intern! So now I work with him every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon on different projects that SI or Mr. Stark himself needs :)'** _

Huh. That makes sense. Still seems like a bit of a stretch, but he'll let it go. It seems legit enough, and he doesn't feel like Peter is lying. He doesn't think Peter is _capable_  of lying.

**'oh cool! That sounds awesome dude, I couldn't even imagine lol'**

"Did you at least get to dance a bit?"

"Huh?" Harley's snaps his head back up, watching as the man stood in front of him places the cooked bacon into a bowl, and patting it down with a paper towel to try and take some of the grease off. "Oh, uh, yeah, we danced." He feels his cheeks beat up at bit. "That was fun."

Mr. Davis grins, and Harley feels his stomach drop, knowing what's coming next. "With some cute girls, I assume?"

Harley grits his teeth and stifles a sigh. God love him, but Mr. Davis was one of the main reasons why he hasn't come out to the Davis' yet. He knows that he's only teasing, that Mr. Davis doesn't mean to hurt Harley by saying those kind of things, but he always, _always_ brings up girls when talking to Harley. Whether he found any girls at school that he liked, teasing him about settling down with a _girl_ friend, and now this, finding any cute _girls_  at the party. Harley would be lying if he said it wasn't getting on his nerves, and that it didn't bother him. Because it did. Very much so.

He opens his mouth but before he could say something he would most likely regret, Mrs. Davis's soft, soothing, now scolding voice cuts in. "Leave him alone, Chris."

Mr. Davis snickers, but relents, deciding instead to lean over and kiss his wife after she walks up next to him, making Harley look away, gazing down at the countertop as he taps a rhythm on to it, feeling like he wants to be anywhere but there at that moment. He hears them share good mornings through their multiple kisses, and Harley's about to go to the living room to give them some space when they _finally_  stop, separating to do their seperate routines for weekend mornings, Mr. Davis going back to cooking, finishing up now, and Mrs. Davis grabbing some utensils.

Harley makes the assumption that shes going to start setting the table, so Harley places his phone in the waistband on his sweatpants, right next to his left hip and goes to grab some plates from the correct cabinet, choosing to do something other than sit there and watch them do all the work. He grabs the plates and silently works beside Mrs. Davis to set the table, placing down three table a in their usual spots as Mrs. Davis places forks and knifes. Once they're finished, she kisses his forehead (something he's still not used to, honestly) as a thank you. "How was your night, sweetheart?"

Harley just shrugs again, but smiles gently at her when he tells her, "It was alright, thanks."

Mr. Davis walks in, placing the finished food in the middle of the dark wooden table, gasping in faux shock and hurt. "Wow, so she gets a thanks, but I get is a 'it was good i think'? I see how it is."

Harley just snorts as Mrs. Davis shakes her head, laughing. "So dramatic, hey?"

She nudges him, grinning, so he plays along, a small smile flittering on his face. "Yeah, total drama queen."

He gawks at them, before huffing and grabbing the bowl full of bacon, sitting down at his usual seat at the head of the table, the large smile on his face betraying his annoyed, affronted act. "Fine, well, I guess you guys aren't getting any bacon then! Teaming up against me." He starts grumbling, and Mrs. Davis bursts out laughing again, Harley letting out a few chuckles of his own beside her.

They all settle down after that, Mrs. Davis sat on Mr. Davis's left side, and Harley sat on his right. They each grab their fair share of food, Harley having some scrambled eggs and a few strips of bacon while Mr. And Mrs. Davis have matching plates, with two fried eggs and bacon, and dig in. They eat in a mostly comfortable silence for a while, until the sound of his phone vibrating against his hip breaks it. Harley tries to ignore it because, you know, being polite and all that, but then it goes off again. And again, until the Davis's are looking at him with blatent amusement and slight exasperation.

He immediately takes it and puts it on to silent, placing on the table instead of putting it back beside his hip, and giving them both a small, slightly apologetic smile. "Sorry." He murmurs.

Mrs. Davis chuckles lightly and shakes her head. "Dont be. Was it that group chat thing you were talking about the other day?"

He had told her about the friend group chat the same day he got added to it, coming home giddy and ranting to her about how cool they all were, practically bouncing in place. It was kind of embarrassing, thinking back on it, but he was excited about it, sue him.

He shakes his head, playing with the few pieces of eggs left on his plate. "Nah, it's just Peter."

She blinks, seeming surprised slightly, but then she just nods once with a gentle smile. "Oh, okay."

"You guys talk a lot." Mr. Davis cuts in suddenly, his eyes narrowing, almost scrutinizing Harley with his heavy green gaze. Harley feels a light trickle of ice cold fear run down his back at the intense stare, the calculating look, * _does he know?_ *, but he shoves it away, just staring back, hopefully showing indifference, nonchalance.

"We're good friends." He replies simply, darting his eyes away to stare down at his plate again, hopefully hiding his nervousness, and his blush. * _Yeah, good friends that almost kissed._ * But they don't need to know that.

There's a moment of silence, no longer comfortable, but much more heavy, tense as Harley continues to feel the mans burning gaze on his skin, and feels continuously more and more uncomfortable and anxious over time.

"He was at the party yesterday, wasnt he?" Mrs. Davis breaks it, thankfully changing the subject, and Harley grabs on to the bait immediately, anything to get out of this seriously awkward situation.

"Yeah. We kinda stuck together throughout the night." His cheeks heat up even more at that, and a small smile grows on his face, the memory of the dance replaying in his mind. The smile fades quickly though. "At least until about midway through."

"What happened midway through?" Mr. Davis presses, eyes softer now, seeming to have let go of whatever he had been doing earlier, thank _fuck._

"He had to leave, he forgot he had to do something. That's actually why hes texting me, to apologize for leaving so suddenly." He pushes a strip of bacon into his mouth, relaxing again and smiling softly, not noticing as the Davis's share yet another knowing look.

When he looks back up again, Mr. Davis is back to eating and Mrs. Davis, having already finishing, is looking back with a sudden frown on her face, eyebrow knitted together in worry. "He didn't get caught by the fire, did he? I heard there was lots of traffic in the area because of it."

Harley's fork freezes half way to his mouth, some of the egg falling off as he stares up at the woman quizzically. "The fire? What fire?"

"There was a house fire on Cordial Street, just a few blocks down from your party, actually."  Her frown deepens at that, her forehead creasing. "It was bad. By the time the authorities showed up, the entire house was already burnt to the ground."

"Jeez," He mutters softly, solemnly. "That's awful."

Mrs. Davis hums in agreement, just as Mr. Davis speaks back up. "But the family got out safe thanks to Spider-Man, so it couldn't been a lot worse."

"Yeah. He saved the son's life, didn't he?"

"Mhm, a close call too, apparently."

"Wait, wait," Harley cuts back in, mind reeling as he places his full fork down on his plate, trying to keep up with this conversation thats beginning to sound like gibberish. "Spider-Man? There's a person, a _man,_  who's a... a spider? What? How?" The Davis's look at each other for a second, before bursting out into loud laughter, the sound echoing in the room. Harley sputters, feeling so fricken lost, * _what is going on?_ * "W-what??"

"He's not a spider, Harley." Mrs. Davis giggles, standing up and taking her plate with her, walking back towards the kitchen.

Harley stares after her with wide eyes, jaw loose. "But his name-"

"Is Spider-Man because he has spider-like powers, kiddo." Mr. Davis interrupts, grinning at him and looking way too amused for Harley's liking as he puts down his fork and stands too, plate in hand. "Walking up walls, shooting webs, that kinda thing."

* _Walking up walls? Shooting webs? Out of where? How? What the hell?!?_ * The man snorts, snickering to himself, most likely at the dumbfounded expression on Harley's face, before leaving the room with a "Look him up!", following his wife to the kitchen.

Harley just lets out a little puff of air that's barely a laugh, because * _what in the actually fuck_ *, and finishes up his meal quickly, practically forcing his meal down his throat as a million questions about the... Arachnid?... run  through his head. He stands, puts his dish in the dishwasher in the kitchen, yells out a thank you to whoever was around to hear it and books it back to his room, plopping down on to his head opening up his phone as soon as possible, feeling a random, but incessant need to find out more about this Spider person? Regular person? With a spider name? Either way, he's curious (curious by nature, remember?) so he's gonna take Mr. Davis's advice and look him up, goddamn it.

He bypasses Peter's texts from earlier for the moment, dead set on figuring out this new mystery man. He opens up Google, types in "Spiderman fire" and hits enter, clicking on the first article he sees talking about the fire. He scrolls down through what he deemed as the unimportant parts until he found the word 'Spider-Man' and zoned in.

' _...All hope had seemed lost for the Kennedy family. Yet, at around 9:23pm, Queens resident superhero Spider-Man swung in to save the day. Sources say the masked vigilante had been wearing his metal suit, one the public has dubbed the 'Iron Spider' as he jumped into action, running straight into the fire to save Jacob Kennedy, the youngest son of the family of 5, and escaping before the building collapsed. "We couldn't be more thankful," Darlene Kennedy said on her Facebook post about the superheros brave actions, "If he hadn't gotten there in time, our family wouldn't be whole right now. We wouldn't be together right now, safe and alive. We can't thank him enough." While the Kennedy family is safe and sound, their house was completely destroyed due to the fire, and a go fund me page has been put up to help with the rebuilding costs.'_

Woah. So this Spider-Man fella is a hero? A superhero, like Iron Man or Captain America? Like the _Avengers_? But, the article also said he was a vigilante, which usually meant working alone, right? So he is a superpowered superhero person, but he isn't apart of the avengers? Harley reads a few more articles, just gaining more and more questions than answers. So this guy just... Does his own thing? Saves people, takes cats down from trees, stops the occasional villain, but nothing too big or bad? Around Queens, but only Queens, and nowhere else? And seemingly often too, if the amount of articles and sightings people have posted have anything to say.

This is wild, absolutely insane. He has a resident vigilante, a _literal superhero_  swinging around _his_ neighbourhood every other day in a bright shiny red and blue suit? And nobody decided to tell him about it until right this moment?!? This is crazy! You don't see something like this in Tennessee, that's for darn well sure.

But something about the first article he read _still_  isn't sitting right with him, even as he moved on and read more and more about the strange (but still cool! Don't get him wrong!) masked man. It said that he showed up at 9:23ish that evening, around seven minutes after the fire started, which is oddly specific for one, but it's also around the same time that Peter left the party... And most of these articles seem to say that they think Spider-Man is a teenager, a _teenage boy_... It _would_ explain why he ran out yesterday, why he always left MJ on their dates, why she said he's always leaving, always busy...

No, no. That's crazy, * _you're crazy Harley, you've officially lost it, congratulations._ * There's _no way in hell_  that small, innocent, sweet, couldn't-hurt-a-fly Peter Parker could ever fight crime _against the law_  as a vigilante. No way. He's too- too _small_  and _kind_ , and _perfect_ , there's no way he'd be Spider-Man! Right? No, he can't be. It must've just been some weird coincidence, or a fluke or something. Nothing more.

But, thinking of Peter, even in a crazy, _nonsensical_  way makes Harley get an idea. Peter has lived in Queens his entire life, hasn't he? Born and raised, proud of it. So, wouldn't he be an expert on the residential webslinger? Wouldn't he know at least some things about him, anyways? He may have even _met_  that guy, if he (and Harley) were so lucky. He'd be a good place to start to help _really_  figure this Spider Guy out. And, maybe he'd get to know more about Peter along the way, so it's a win win.

With that in mind,  Harley opens up his texts, skimming over the other three Peter sent earlier, and sending his question, full of burning curiosity.

**'Hey, Pete, have you heard of Spider-Man??'**


	15. First Coming Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Sorry again for the delays on getting the chapters out, but unfortunately it's probably gonna stay like this, especially since schools getting more and more hectic by the week.
> 
> But! This chapter is a long one, and a lot of different stuff happens in it, so hopefully that makes up for it :P
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Also just a warning, at the beginning of the chapter, there's some bullying (guess who's back? ;) ) and one or two harsh words are used. Be safe y'all

You know, when May had told Peter to apologize to Harley, he hadn't thought it would be easy. He had thought that Harley would fight him about it, that he wouldn't accept it right away and that Peter was going to have to prove that he truly _was_  sorry. But, to Peter's surprise (and elation), Harley had accepted it pretty easily even though Peter had done a terrible job (* _A secret project?? That's the excuse you come up with? Really??_ *), and had moved on just as fast, going on to ask about Peter's internship like nothing had ever happened. And honestly, Peter had been nothing short of relieved. He had thanked the Gods that they hadn't have had to talk about the whole awkward running-out-after-almost-kissing thing, and that they had gone back to normal (even though Peter was pretty sure _normal_ wasnt what he wanted anymore. Not with Harley, anyways. But normal was better than the awkward state they had been left in, so Peter will take what he can get. At least for now).

Now, Peter was wishing Harley _had_ talked to him about the damn kissing thing.

Because _now_ , Harley was asking about _Spider-Man_ , about who he was and what he did, and honestly? Peter was freaking the fuck out.

He knew there was no way in hell that Harley could figure out his identity, there was no way he could put two and two together (* _MJ had though, and you thought she wouldn't either-_ *), but it didn't stop Peter from worrying, and panicking, and pacing around his room (on the floor and on the ceiling) while answering any questions Harley had about his alter ego as best as he could without giving anything away. Do you know how hard it is to talk about yourself in the third person while trying to pretend that you _don't know_  yourself all that well? No? Well, Peter does, first hand, and it's awful. Especially since Peter can't lie for shit, so he had to be creative about it, trying not to lie, without being able to tell the truth. It was a mess.

And it didn't help that Harley's questions had been _unrelenting._

' **Hey Pete, have you heard of Spider-Man?'**

_' **Yeah! Of course I have! Who hasn't?'**_

(Peter hated writing that, but acting like a big fan of himself was better than just full on saying 'hey I'm spiderman lol'.)

' **I haven't! We don't have random superheroes in Tennessee.'**

' **What does he do, anyways? Just fight crime?'**

_' **He helps out a bit too. Gives people directions, gets cats out of trees, stuff like that.'**_

' **everyday??'**

_' **well, no, but a few times a week. He has a life lol'**_

' **how do you know? Have you met him??? He works with Tony Stark, doesn't he?'**

_' **Why else would he hide his identity?? And yeah, he does, and yes, I have! Kind of anyways. Just a couple times in passing, nothing crazy.'**_

' **Nothing crazy?? You've literally met a superhero, that's pretty crazy, Pete!! What was he like??'**

_' **Eh, I've met the other avengers sooo. He seemed like a pretty chill guy tho, he was pretty nice, I guess.'**_

' **Wait, you've met the other Avengers?!? We are definitely coming back to that later'**

' **Doesn't he work for the avengers or does he do this he on his own??'**

' **What are his webs made of?? Do you know??'**

' **What are his powers? Just super strength and stickiness??'**

' **Why does he have multiple suits? Like some sites show a bright blue and red one, and another shows a red and yellow, shinier metal looking one'**

Seriously. Peter spend all of Saturday _AND_  all of yesterday answering Harley's questions about Spider-Man. (And pacing. He did a lot of pacing the weekend, to the point where Aunt May had told him to either sit down or to clean the house, to "make use of that nervous energy". The house was spotless by Sunday evening.)

Not to mention how Harley had also asked some of said questions in the group chat, so he could 'get more opinions about the spider thing', only for Peter to correct him and say that he's not a 'thing' he's a person, much to MJ and Ned's amusement. (They both send him separate texts to let him know they were laughing at his misfortune. He has _great_ friends.)

Peter made sure to add 'Curious' to the growing list of things he was finding out about Harley Keener. And 'Stubborn', because no matter how many times he had tried to get off of the subject, Harley had always curved them right back on to it, right back on track. Apparently he was set in his ways when he wanted something. Good to know.

But, that was the weekend. _All_ of the weekend, mind you, but the weekend none the less. And he needed to start focusing on _today_ , because _t_ _oday_  brought its own set of problems.

Today was the first day he was going to see Harley in person after the party.

Harley had forgiven him through text, sure, but it was always different in person. Through text, things are always so... impersonal. You don't see each others facial expressions, hear each others voices, or each others tones. It was always different. What if he forgave him, but once he saw Peter in person, things became awkward? Or what if he hadn't really meant it? And seeing Peter in person made him realize that he _didn't_  actually forgive Peter? And hated him instead?

Peter huffs out a frustrated, anxious breath, and grabs the lock on his locker. _Red thoughts_ , his therapist had taught him all those years ago. 'What ifs' are red thoughts, and only serve to make you feel worse, only serve to blow the problem out of proportion. He had to think green thoughts. Harley had probably meant it, and it was most likely going to be fine.

Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

Peter grabs his physics book out of his locker, and goes to shut it when a faint buzz sparks at the back of his neck, and he stifles a groan. He gets his locker shut just in time before he's shoved against the hard metal, a hand pressing his neck with a tight grip to hold him there, and hears taunting laughter from behind him. _Familiar_  taunting laughter.

Peter had completely forgotten about Cam. But it's been two weeks since the fight, _of course_  his suspension would be over.  He should've been expecting this. But he wasn't.

What a great way to start the day.

He turns his head to glare at the perpetrator, feeling the usual bitter irritation blooming as Cam stares back at him with his head tilted and a cocky grin on his face. But this time around, there's a new, different glint in his hazel eyes as he stares Peter down that makes him genuinely unnerved and causes him to struggle slightly against his hold. "Hey Penis, did ya miss me?"

Peter barks out a rough laugh, stopping his very weak struggling attempts, leaning the side of his head against the cool metal surface. "Like I'd ever miss you, _Martin_." He spits his last name like a snakes venom, but it only makes the bully laugh more.

"Ooo, Parker's got a mouth on him now, where'd you get that, hmm?"

"Probably got it when he learned to suck dick." He hears another voice, more nasily and higher pitched from behind Cam, and oh good, Flash is here too. Both of his (annoyances) bullies in one place, great, fantastic, a two in one combo, _just_  what Peter needed today.

Not to mention how the comments about him being gay sting just a little bit more than they used it. He used to ignore it, brush it off because it didn't mean anything to him, but now that he figured himself out, now that he knows his bisexual (god that's still weird to say), now that he actually wants to date a guy, the comments made in sneering tones and harsh words made his insides twist and churn and made him feel like the scum of the earth, just for existing.

Not that he'd ever show that to them, of course. They'd just feast off of his insecurities like predators that had caught their first pray in months.

Peter's about to make another snarky comment when the hand presses further into his neck and stop the words inside of his throat, almost choking him. Cam leans forward, and Peter can smell his nasty breath (* _Did he even brush his teeth? Jesus_ *) as it brushes against his cheek. "Speaking of, where is your little boyfriend, Parker? Too much of a pussy to show his face again?"

Peter grits his teeth and holds his tongue. He wants to be able to scream out that Harley wasn't a coward, that Harley could totally take him in a fight and win, that _Peter_ could send him on his ass in two seconds flat, but he can't. "He's not my boyfriend." He croaks out, before spitting weakly, "and I don't know where he is, so let me go!" He struggles with a bit more strength, feeling his patience fading the longer he's pressed against this locker.

He succeeds in escaping this time, Cam releasing his grip and snickering to himself. The boy takes a step back, tilts his head to the side again and sends Peter a feral grin that has his gut (and his Spidey sense) screaming at him, knowing that it was a sign of nothing good. "Well," he drawls out, getting his face way too close to Peter's for comfort after he turns around to face him, "Next time you see him, tell him to come find me. I need to... _talk_  to him about something."

By the wolfish grin, Peter can tell they'd do anything but talk, and Peter almost wants to spit in his face. But he doesn't. Instead, he lets them walk away, Cam in front with Flash trailing behind him like a puppy, dread in his stomach like a rock someone threw into a lake, sinking slowly to the bottom.

Cam wants revenge. Nobody fights back against Cameron Martin, _nobody_. At least, not until Harley. Even if Harley got beaten last time, just the _action_  of him standing up has Cam wanting to punish him _more,_  to bully him like he bullies (more like harasses) Peter. To make sure he never stands up to him again. Just the thought of any of that makes Peter sick to his stomach.

But he doesn't have time to dwell on it for too long, as the final bell rings and he realizes that his late for first period. Late for Physics. With Harley.

Not only was he nervous in general about seeing the boy again, but now he has to tell him that Cam, the same person that beat him up and _sent him to the hospital with a fucking concussion_ , is threatening him, and most likely plans on beating him up.

Great. Fantastic. God, could this day get _any_  worse??

\--

Yes. Apparently it can.

Because he had gotten to class late, the teacher had already begun instructing and he hadn't had any time to talk to the boy in question, or to see if he truly did accept Peter's apology.

But just seeing Harley again after his new personal revelation (his sexual awakening?) was enough to knock the air out of his lungs. He's so... Beautiful, and Peter isn't sure how he didn't notice it before. I mean, yeah, sure, Peter knew he was pretty, and had caught himself staring on a few occasions without knowing why, but now that he _does_ know why, his beauty smacks Peter across the face. So much so that he can't help but to stare at the boy as he does his work (work that Peter is supposed to be doing too, but, you know. Priorities).

His slightly curly dirty blond hair is getting long and keep falling in front of his eyes as he works, a hand continuously swiping it away subconciously. His bright, deep, rich ocean eyes are sharp and focused, swiping across the page as he reads the problems and writes the equations to solve them. His face is scrunched up slightly, making him look serious, determined, a tooth is biting at his bottom lip as he works, and Peter can't help but to want to see that happen in... _other_ , more _private_  circumstances. He's tapping his foot continuously, almost to a rhythm, his legs hugged by skinny jeans that make his legs look way too good, his arms covered in a dark blue hoodie that makes him look too fucking _adorable._  Good god, Peter needs to stop staring before he makes thing very, _very_  awkward.  
  
His gaze flicks back up before he freezes. Those baby blues are staring back at him with a small smile, a faint blush and a quirked eyebrow. Welp, guess the 'awkward' boat has already sailed. He jerks his head around to look at his notes, to pretend he was working, wasn't staring, trying to salvage the situation, only to see his binder and his pencil case laying on his desk, very much unopened and unused. He feels his face flush what has to be a bright red, and he hears faint chuckling beside him as he opens his books and finally starts writing his notes. Even his laugh is cute, goddamn it.

But that's not even the worst part.

Because after all that happened, about midway through class, Mr. Morales makes an announcement.

"Okay, class! It's time foooor- drum roll please!-" The poor, poor man actually pauses, and when nobody moves to make the aforementioned drum roll, instead choosing to all stare at him judgingly, he does the tiny drum roll himself. On the final beat, he announces, "The Annual Science Fair!"

And Peter really, _really_ wants to bang his head against the wall.

See, Peter _usually_  doesn't mind the science fair, mostly because he's _usually_  in the same classes as Ned or MJ, so he can pair up with them and they can help get him through it. But this year, this Physics class specifically, he _wasnt_  in a class with either of them. So he had nobody to buddy up with. And, _and_ , Physics was his worst out of all of the sciences too. It was a recipe for disaster.

And yeah, Harley was right there, but he already made enough of a fool of himself around the boy today, thank you very much. Plus, what if he rejected him? He _still_ didn't know if Harley truly forgave him, after all, and now his brain was going into dangerous thoughts territory, with * _god you're so dumb, he caught you staring, now he definitely won't forgive you_ * cycling over and over in his head. So asking Harley was a definite no go.

He sits there, resolutely staring down at his paper as everyone pairs up around him, Mr. Morales attempting (and failing) to teach the rules over the noise. He tunes into a conversation directly beside him, and his heart aches as he realizes what it is.

"Hey Harley! Do you have a partner?"

It's Emily Roberts, he can tell just by her voice. She's super sweet and kind, Harley gonna like being her partner. And pretty too. He'll probably like her in general. Now that he thinks about it, they have a lot in common. The same interests, the same backgroundish, (Emma also moved from a small town). She's perfect for him, honestly. * _But she can't have him!_ * His mind is screaming at him, some sort of emotion twisting and burning inside of him. * _He's supposed to be mine!_ *

But that's not fair, is it? Harley _isn't_ his. If he wants to get a girlfriend, he can, there's nothing stopping him. Peter feels his mood plummet. They'd be a cute couple anyways, the type that's always conjoined to the hip, always holding hands, always- always _kissing_ -

Peter has missed something because the next thing he knows, there's a tap on his shoulder and Harley's desk is pressed to his. The boy leans over towards Peter, almost invading his personal space (not that he minds), and Emily is now nowhere to be seen. "Hey, you'll be my project partner, right?"

Peter feels like he has whiplash. "W-What?" He stammers out, staring wide eyed into those big, inquisitive baby blues, bright, hopeful, but noticably nervous as he fidgets with a pencil in his hand.

"For the project. Do you-" He hesitates for a second, before his voice softens to almost a whisper, quiet and shy, almost embarassed as he asks, "Do you wanna be my partner?"

Apparently he doesn't have to make a fool of himself by asking, because Harley will ask for him. He's gaping at the boy, he can tell, his jaw slack and his eyes wide and, after a few seconds of this, Harley starts to take his lack of response the wrong way, starts to backtrack. "I-I mean, unless you dont want to, or if you have another partner that's okay too-"

"What about Emily?" His mouth finally decides to move, the words coming out harsher and blunter than he meant for them to, his uncovered feelings making themselves known.

Now it's Harley's turn to blink at him, face scunching up slightly in confusion before he turns to look back at the girl in question, points to her, looks back at him, raises an eyebrow. "Her?" Peter nods bashfully, heat rising to his cheeks again as his eyes drop to his desk. There's a snort, and a light chuckle that makes Peter look up through his eyelashes, reconnecting with Harley's now softened eyes. "She seems nice, but I don't know her, Pete." He pauses, and even with hightened senses, Peter barely heard the faint, almost whisper that came after, barely sees the faint flush on his cheeks. "I don't want to get to know her... I want to know you." Peter wasn't sure if he was _supposed_ to hear that part at all, honestly. But he did. And his face feels like molton lava, burning with a heat from the deepest pits of a volcano, even as a large, dorky smile forms on his face and a warm light grows in his chest.

"O-Okay." Peter murmurs back, just as faintly, just as soft, not wanting to ruin this weird, but warm moment they've found themselves in, looking into each others eyes. It's like the party all over again, where everything fades away into the background, and all Peter can see is this gorgeous, gentle, kind boy in front of his eyes, the slight creases by his ocean eyes, the small upward curve of his lips, the faint indent of the one dimple on his right cheek.

The teacher yells at the class to quiet down, and the moment is broken, the two of them jerking away and shifting back towards the front of the class, both of their faces flushed this time.

After Mr. Morales finishes telling everyone what they needed to know for the project, about how it'll mostly be at home work (which they all already knew, it's the same every year), there is about ten minutes left until the end of class. It's not enough time to start on anything, but they do as much as they can, spitting out ideas and creating a solid game plan for what they were going to do, all while Peter was trying his hardest to stay focused and on topic, with only slight success (it's not his fault that Harley's _face_  is a distraction, okay? He's only human).

"You'll let me know his answer by lunch?" Peter zones back into reality to see Harley staring at him inquisitively, standing with his arms full of books with small smirk on his face as Peter blushes at being caught _again._

And that was another thing. Peter, being stupid and dumb and _stupid_  had said they could go to the tower to work on their project together. To _Stark Tower_. With _Mr. Stark._ Harley had, obviously, been ecstatic with the idea of going, of meeting Iron Man himself (" _And maybe we'll even meet Spider-Man while we're there!"_ He had said too, and Peter had just laughed very, very nervously, said _"probably not"_ like a dumbass, and had moved on as quick as possible) and Peter had wanted to bang his head against a wall repeatedly because * _God why did you say that, you're so stupid, what the fuck_ *. Mr. Stark doesn't even know who Harley is, and Peter had planned on keeping it that way to avoid any situations where Peter could make a fool of himself in front of both Mr. Stark and Harley with his dumbass crush (like he already has many many many times today, and it's only first period). Part of him wants to just tell Harley that Mr. Stark was too busy, or find some other excuse to get out of this terrible hole he's dug himself into. But, after seeing Harley get so damn excited about it, with a large smile from ear to ear and big beautiful eyes shining with happiness that's (sadly) so so rare to see, Peter knows he can't.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, I'll try." He nods dumbly,  placing that plastered smile back onto his face. "I'll text you if I hear from him sooner."

And there it is again, that blinding grin that melts Peter's heart. "Okay, cool! See you then!"

Right as Harley's turning around, about to walk to the front door, Peter remembers something from earlier and blurts out a "Wait!" Harley stops, looking back at him with his head tilted, grin still firmly in place. He's so damn  _happy_  right now, it breaks Peter's heart knowing that he's probably going to ruin it. But he has to warn Harley, just in case. "Uhm, I don't know if you saw today but- uh- C-Cam is back."

Peter's heart squeezes as Harley's eyes widen and his grin drops, before his nose scrunches up and his eyes burn with a heat Peter's never seen before. "Did he hurt you again? I swear to God if he-"

"N-No! I mean, n-not really? He kinda pushed me against the locker-" He sees Harley's nostrils flare, and backtracks immediately. "B-But, I'm fine! Perfectly fine, see? He didn't hurt me or anything! A-Anyways, this isn't the point-" Harley raises an eyebrow, as if to say ' _you sure about that?'_  but he lets Peter continue anyways. "He, uh," Peter fiddles with his fingers, picking at his nails. "He told me to tell you that he needed to "talk" to you." Peter gestures out the quotation marks, before sighing, lowering his eyes. "I know he doesn't actually want to talk, so please, just... Be careful, okay?"

He glaces back up, and almost flinches at the harsh emotions painted on to Harley's features. He looks _furious_ , and Peter needs to deescalate this situation before two weeks ago happens all over again. "Harley-"

"He's threatening me??" He growls out, and his voice sounds so unlike Harley that Peter almost flinches again. Especially when he lets out a harsh, bitter laugh.

"Harley-"

"He _bullies_ you, beats me to _shit_ , and then _threatens_  me as soon as he gets back?? I'm gonna kick his ass, I swear to god, I'm gonna-" He cuts himself off and starts towards the door again, his anger plusing off of him in waves.  Peter panics, grabbing his arm with a little more force than necessary.

"Harls, please!"

The boy in question freezes mid movement, tenses up, glances back at Peter with wide, unreadable eyes, an unknown emotion swirling in them. Peter swallows, hoping the nickname didn't go too far, wasn't too abrupt, but he notices that Harley's hands are still shaking, and he decides to focus on that instead. He lightly drags his hand down Harley's arm, until he could hold his hand gently, carefully.

"Harls," Peter murmurs softly, before pausing, a faint flush on his cheeks. "Is- Is that nickname okay?" There's a moment where Harley just stares at Peter, something dark, sad, swirling in his eyes before he nods once, and the darkness fades slightly. Peter wonders what that could be about, but realizes that now is not the time. So he starts again, tone gentle, worried. "Harls, please, don't do anything crazy, just- just be _careful_. Please. I don't want you to get hurt again."

There's another moment, where they just stand and stare at each other, electrified eyes meeting Peter's (hopefully) calm, reassuring ones. Peter can feel Harley's hand still shaking, but the aftershocks are fading bit by bit, and his heart rate is slowing, calming. Harley nods again, murmurs a soft "okay, I will." and tugs his hand away, making his way out of the classroom door. Peter lets him go this time, staring after him with many emotions swirling in his gut. Surprise, slight pride, unease, fear, worry, concern. Too many things to keep track of.

Peter puffs out a breath, ignoring the stares of his remaining classmates (they had made a scene, he knew, but they had made quite a few scenes within the past few weeks, so Peter barely noticed anymore) and grabs his materials, making his way to his next class, head aching.

Today was gonna be a long, _long_  day.

\--

It had, indeed, been a long ass day. Nothing else _horrible_ had happened per say, but nothing _good_  had happened either. Peter had gotten a A- on his most recent chem test, which wasn't a bad mark, but he knews he could've done better, MJ was off of school 'sick', even though she was never sick so that threw both Ned and Peter off their games, making them worried (even though she had texted and said she was fine, Peter wasn't sure whether to believe that or not).

And Harley... Well, Harley had started acting weird about halfway through the day. Not standoffish or avoidant or anything, not like the first week, but... weird. Off. He still hung around Peter and Ned, but he seemed to glance around every so often, seemed on edge. He was more quiet too, and his face had held a steely, almost fustrated expression all day. The only time it had softened was at lunch, and it had taken Peter and Ned cracking jokes and trying their hardest to make him laugh in order for it to happen. Peter didn't know what it was about, but he could guess it had something to do with a certain bully and his 'talk' (Peter had tried asking Harley about it, to see if Cam had said anything to him, but the boy had just shrugged him off with a hard, but not unkind, expression and told him not to worry about it. Peter was definitely worrying about it).

And the day was only going to get worse. Or better, potentially, depending on how this goes. * _Green thoughts, Peter, green thoughts._ *

He was in his bedroom, his spandex suit fitting tightly around his body, and even with his superstrength, the cellphone felt heavy, weighted in his hand. He breathes out a low sigh, stares at Mr. Starks contact on the screen, fidgets and bounces his leg as nerves, dread, swirls in his gut. Earlier in the day, before lunch, Peter had texted Mr. Stark about the project, as Harley requested. Mr. Stark had been fine with it, he had told Harley about it, and that was all good and fine and dandy, but then Peter had asked if they could call later. That he had something to tell him. Which he did.

Peter was going to tell him that he was bi.

He had originally planned on telling the man in person, but now, with the science fair, the next time he was going to see Mr. Stark in person (which was tomorrow afternoon), Harley was going to be there too. And he didn't exactly want to come out to his mentor/father figure _in front of his crush_. He _could_  wait until after, until Thursday when he has the internship again, but Peter honestly didn't want to. He wanted to get it over with, wanted Mr. Stark, wanted _Tony_  to know him, all of him, the true him, as soon as possible. Especially since he knew Mr. Stark would accept him. Peter had no reason to think otherwise.

That being said, it was still extremely nerve wracking, and Peter was still scared shitless.

* _You're Spider-Man,_ * he kept telling himself, * _you've fought all these bad guys, robbers, murderers, The Vulture, and you can't even call him? Cant even tell him? Get your shit together._ *

After sitting there for a few more anxious, fustrating moments, Peter huffs, presses call, and places the phone up to his ear before he can talk himself out of it.

It rings once, twice, each ring feeling longer than the last before music fills the line, blaring at first before quieting suddenly, a bit of shuffling, and then a voice. "Hey Pete, how was school?"

Peter blinks. He figured his mentor would've gotten straight to the point. He kinda wishes he had. "Uh, it was good. Long."

Mr. Stark puffs out something resembling a laugh. "One of those days, huh?"

"Yeah- yeah. Just- just weird." He's stammering now, stuttering, his nervousness, borderline anticipation is starting to get the better of him, starting to make his hands shake and his arms tremble.

"Weird?"

"Mmhm."

When he doesn't (can't) elaborate, Mr. Stark finally sighs, and Peter can hear a _clink_  on the other side, the man putting down whatever he was working on. It causes his insides to tighten, his body to tense, knowing it was about to get serious, that he was _actually_  about to do this. Even though _he_ is the reason they are having this conversation in the first place.

"What's up, kid?" Theres a pause. "You arent doing that 'got hurt in patrol and not telling anyone until you've passed out' thing again, are you?"

Peter snorts, his shoulders loosening slightly. "That was _one time_ , Mr. Stark."

"One time too many." He can practially hear the eyeroll. "And you didn't answer, don't make me use your tracker and make my way over there, cause I will."

"I know you will," Now it's Peter's turn to roll his eyes, his lips twitching, before he sighs, looks down at his knees, picks at the fabric of his suit. "No, no, I'm not hurt, don't worry. It's not- not anything like that. More of a- personal. Thing."

"Ohkay," he elongates, before Peter can hear the creak of a chair, the man most likely leaning forward like he always does when Peter has something important to tell him, elbows on his knees, hands in front of his mouth, eyes focused. "I'm all ears, Pete."

Peter takes a deep, shaky breath, feeling jittery as he realizes that this is the first time he's really coming out to someone. With his aunt, he hadn't even known what was happening, and they had figured it out together, so he hadn't really 'come out' to her, at least not in the traditional sense. This is the first time he's really gonna tell someone since he realized his truth, and that realization causes a lump to form in his throat. But he swallows and forces himself to push past it, to say the words anyways, to get it over with, * _just get it over it_ *.

"I'm- uh," he swallows again, grinding his teeth before forcing the words past the tip of his tongue. "I'm- I-I'm bisexual."

It comes out a lot shakier, quieter and weaker than he would have liked, but it's out there, the fact, his _truth_  is out there and his body slumps, relaxing mostly. Mostly. He's still holding his breath, still on the edge of his seat, hoping and praying that Mr. Stark will have a good reaction, will be okay with it all. As much as Peter thinks he won't, there's still that little piece of doubt that's eating at the back of his mind and won't stop until he's _sure_ , 110% sure that Mr. Stark is okay with it.

After a beat or two of exhilerating, unnerving silence, Mr. Stark laughs, and Peter relaxes completely, all of the tension fading from his body. "That's it? Jesus kid, I thought you were dying or something."

Peter lets out a faint relieved laugh, and smiles sheepishly, even though his mentor couldn't see it. "Sorry."

The man chuckles again, before his voice gets softer, more serious. "I'm proud of you. I know it's not easy to come out sometimes."

Peter shrugs, acting nonchalant even as the praise makes his face warm up and his heart soar. "I-I guess so."

"I know so." There's a pause, before he mumbles under his breath, faint enough to where Peter wouldn't have heard it without his upgraded senses. "I'm surprised you even told me, honestly."

"I wanted to tell you." Peter says simply, because it's true. He did want to tell Mr. Stark. "I wanted you to know. About me. I trust you."

There's another moment, this one seeming heavier, and Mr. Stark sniffles slightly, his voice thicker as he responds with a quiet "Thanks, Pete, I'm glad." He then clears his throat. "So, the new kid, huh? Harley, was it?"

Peter chokes on air, and starts coughing harshly, Mr. Stark laughing loudly in the background, and the heaviness in the air immediately dissipates. Peter croaks out " _Mr. Stark!_ ", his face flushed a bright red. He knew his mentor father person would figure his silly little crush out sooner or later, but he figured it would happen tomorrow, you know, when he _actually sees Peter around Harley_. Apparently his crush is more obvious than he thought.

"What? Am I wrong?" When Peter doesn't respond, freight with shock and amble embarassment, his laughter only gets louder, his voice filled to the brim with amusement. "Oh, tomorrow's gonna be _so_ much fun."

"Don't embarass me, please." He begs, pleads, voice still high and squeaky, like how he sounded before puberty. Ew.

"And ruin your little study date? Oh no no, I'll leave you two alone, let you _work your magic_ , don't you worry."

Peter groans loudly, falling backwards onto his bed and running his free hand over his face, into his hair. "I regret everything. Also it's  _not a date._ " 

All he gets in response is a snicker, and a "Whatever you say, kid," before there's a beep, and the shuffling starts back up on the other end of the line. "Gotta go, duty calls. Well, more like Pepper calls, and I can't leave her waiting, you know how she gets." Mr. Stark makes a weird noise, like he's shuttering, and a laugh pushes its way past Peter's lips. "Love you, Pete. Proud of you."

"Thanks. Love you too, Mr. Stark."

They share goodbyes, the call ends, and Peter let's the phone drop on to the bed beside his head, a warm smile brightening up his face. That went much, much better than expected, even though the man had (and was going to continue to) tease him relentlessly. But Peter didn't even mind. Mr. Stark had accepted him, and thats all that matters right now.

After a few minutes of sitting there, feeling all kinds of warm, fuzzy, mushy feelings, he gets up and finds his mask, putting it on and opening his window, getting ready for his patrol. After saying his usual greeting to Karen, he jumps out the open window and swings away, hoping it'll be a quick, easy patrol, hoping he could hold onto these happy feelings for just a little while longer.

Yeeeah, like he was ever that lucky.


	16. First Assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm disappointed in this chapter. 
> 
> I don't even have an excuse. College sucks. Life sucks. Finals are coming up. I'm so fucking tired.
> 
> I feel like I'm letting you guys down, and I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> I also feel like I write something like this every chapter. Im sorry about that too.
> 
> I hope you guys still somehow enjoy this mess of a fic (and this mess of a chapter) anyways. Your comments and kudos make my day. I love you all :)
> 
> Trigger warnings: A mugging, and a panic attack. Be safe <3

 "Harley!"

He ignored the shrill call from behind him, instead choosing to slam the door behind him and storm away from it, down the stairs of the apartment building and out into the streets.

It's freezing, the sun setting in the distance causing a light layer of frost to grow all around him, but Harley barely notices the chill, racing away with a fire burning through his blood and roaring in his chest.

How could they?? How could they say that? How could they  _assume_  something like that??

Like Harley was just going to- to  _replace_ her. To  _forget_  about her. His own  _mother_. His mom. His ma.

The one that gave birth to him, and raised him to be who he is now? The one that taught him the abcs and 123s, even before he got to preschool? The one that held him close when he cried, and tickled him until he was laughing his head off? The one that taught him how to ride a bike, to play baseball, to shave, in the absence of his father? The one that told off the principal at his school for what felt like hours when Harley came home with bruises and cuts all over his body from bullies? The one that worked and worked and worked her ass off day and night to ensure that him and his sister could live normal, happy children lives? So that they wouldn't have to worry? That one that worked herself  _to her death_... For them, for Abbie, for  _him_?

How could they  _ever_  think that they could replace her?

That  _Mrs. Davis_  could replace  _her_?

The evening had started out simple enough, Harley had come home (* _Back to the apartment,_ * he forces himself to think, * _that's not my home._ *) from a not so great day at school, consisting of getting Peter as his partner for the science fair (the one good thing that happened, and a perfect way to get to know him better), getting a 70ish on his calculus test, hearing people talk shit about him in the hallways (always a great moral booster), and trying to deal with Cameron fucking Martin, which, as he quickly figured out, never ends well. He now had a bully on his ass for most likely the rest of the school year (until he moves away again, like he  _knows_ he's going to, that is), and he had no one to blame but himself. At least Peter was safe now.

But he couldn't even relish in that fact,  because when he got home, borderline grumpy and exhausted, Mr. Davis had been setting the table for supper and had told Harley to go get his mother.  _His mother_. Refering to Mrs. Davis. As his  _MOTHER._

Harley had snapped. He had thrown his backpack into a corner of the room, had screamed at them at the top of his lungs and had run right back out of the apartment the way he came.

("Harley, I didnt mean-"

"No! You did mean it! How could you? How  _dare_ you??"

"Harley, please-"

"You don't get to call her that! You don't get to call her  _anything!_ "

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"Harley? Chris? What's going on?"

" _You!_  You are  _not_ my mom, and  _you_ are not my dad! You aren't my parents! And you never will be, so stop acting like it!!")

He just didn't get it. He didn't get how they could do that to him. They  _knew_  what had happened, they had been told when they first chose to foster him (for safety reasons or something, God knows). So they  _knew_ what he has gone through, they  _knew_  how distraught he had been, how he  _still was,_  and yet they had thought s _omehow, in some way_  that they had the right, the privilege of calling her that. Of calling her his  _mom_.

He just- he just-

He stumbles, and his attention shifts away from his raging thoughts long enough to realize that his lungs are burning, his chest is heaving, and that he's practically running through the streets of Queens, almost bowling people over as he does. He ducks out of the way as people swarm towards him, pressing against of a brick building as he struggles to regain his breath. He now notices just  _how many people_  are on the streets, and realizes that he's caught in rush hour traffic, people trying to get home after their busy work days. In Tennessee, you got your usual cars backed up on the road, and the occasional angry driver, but in New York, you got floods of people coming from every direction and going every which way, the sideways clogged instead of the streets.

People fill every little hole and gap between one another, and even from the sidelines, Harley feels claustrophobic, closed in, and it does nothing to help him regain his breath. He tries to ignore it, ignore the tightening of his throat and chest, choosing to glance around instead, try to see, recognize where he is.

But he  _can't._  Nothing, no landmark or sign that he can see looks familiar to him. In fact,  _nothing_  around him looks familiar to him, the streets, cars, hell, even the buildings look different from where he stands, and his throat tightens even more. He takes a shaky breath, feeling as the air barely passes through to his lungs, and tries to think.

So he's somewhere he doesn't know, that's not good, but he couldn't be too far from his- _their_ apartment, right? He had walked here on foot, so he shouldn't be too far away, and he can just retrace his steps, right? Except, he doesn't remember if or where he turned when he walked, if he stayed on a straight path as he matched on with a fury, or if he twisted and turned down the winding streets of New York.

Harley takes another deep breath, eyeing the crowd one more time. Well, standing here isn't going to do any thing about it. He may as well try and get back.

He doesn't truly  _want_  to go back, he doesn't want to see their sad, pitying faces and their soft, sympathetic,  _plastic_  words that he knows aren't true, that he knows are just said to make him feel better. But he  _also_  doesn't want to be lost in a city he isn't familiar with either. So, going back it is.

He breaches the wave after a few moments of preparation, and oh god, yup, it is just as awful as Harley thought it would be. There's a body brushing on all sides of him (and he means it, _a_ _ll_  sides of him), the air is thick with body heat, and smells of sweat, old cologne or perfume, and, worse of all, coffee breath. It's disgusting, and Harley only gets a block or two down before he has to escape, pushing past people and apologizing before rushing into a random alleyway, taking deep breaths again, trying not to go into a full blown panic attack.

* _Okay, okay, you're fine, we're fine, just relax, it's okay_ * he tells himself over and over, leaning against a grimy concrete wall, a hand placed over his chest, over his rapidly beating heart. * _It's okay, you're okay._ *

Due to his quickly rising panic, and his efforts to try and calm himself, Harley didn't notice the extra body that was with him in the supposedly abandoned alleyway.

At least, not until a dirty, sweat slick and clasps around his mouth in a death grip, quieting the instinctual scream as it rose out of his throat, and a sharp (very sharp, very very sharp) knife is head against said throat, just below his chin.

Harley freezes, his breathing now sharp, terrified gasps, body tense and shaking. * _Not okay, you're not okay, not okay, very not okay-_ *

"Now," the voice is sickly sweet, higher pitched and drawn out, slow and meticulous, like the person (a women, he thinks) thought this out, planned it, even though there's no way in hell that they could have. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

Harley just whimpers, eyes burning as he struggles to stay calm, unable to do anything else as he shutters again, beyond petrified at what this woman is planning.

"Give me your wallet." She orders, and Harley doesn't even hesitate, his training just cycling * _holy shit im being mugged holy shit-_ * over and over as he reaching his trembling fingers into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, holding it out for her.  "Good boy." She purrs into his ear, but just as she's about to grab the black leather, theres a flash of white, and suddenly the wallet is gone.

A voice rings out through the alley then, loud enough to echo off of the walls. "Hey lady, didn't you learn one of the first rules in kindergarten? Don't take things that aren't yours??"

Harley squeezes his eyes shut, not really focusing on the words as his brain changes its mantra to * _oh god theres another one oh god I'm screwed I'm so screwed-_ *

He lets out an involuntary squeak as his body is jerked around, placed in front of the womans, now facing down the alleyway instead of towards the street like before. His eyes shoot open as the knife digs into his throat, a sharp stinging pain beginning to grow as he stares into the dark, dark  _so dark_  alley, only seeing the faintest hint of a silhouette further down... on a rooftop?

Oh good, now Harley's going insane.

"One move and he's dead." The woman threatens, almost snarling, tightening her grip on him, and Harley let's out another involuntary noice, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"Hey, hey, that's not necessary. We can talk about this!" The other voice calls back again, and this time the words actually get through Harley's head. * _They're... Helping me?_ *

"Sure, we can talk." The woman shrugs, Harley feels the movement rub against his back. Her voice is still calm, cool, collected. Like she's definitely done this before, which is a mental image Harley really doesn't need right now, not when he's  _still in her grasp_. "Or," she adds more pressure, and Harley coughs once, feeling a trickle of blood run down his neck as the stinging intensifies into a burn. "You could leave us alone, walk away and don't turn back. Maybe then, the kid won't get it so bad."

"I don't know if you've heard, lady, but stealing is kind of illegal. I can't just let you go." The silhouette shifts in tbe distance, getting a bit bigger, maybe moving closer? "And, what'd he do to you anyways? He doesn't look like the type to be in a gang, or dealing drugs or something. He just looks like- like-" The voice cuts off at that, though there's a quiet mutter, almost like a swear, that came after. Harley couldn't hear what it said over the rush of blood in his ears. "Like a kid." The voice finishes lamely, clearly not what they was going to say, but the voice sounds different now. Slightly higher, shakier. Panicked.

The woman didn't seem to notice, seemingly getting impaitent, spitting, "It doesn't matter what he did or didn't do! Im not letting you call the cops and get me arrested again! Im not going back to jail, Spidey, I'm not!"

* _Wait, Spidey? Like- like-_ *

The figure's (* _Spider-Man???_ *) shoulders slump as they huff, loud enough for them to hear. "If you didn't want to go back to jail, maybe you shouldn't have done something that sort of  _very_ illegal, lady!"

"You don't know my life! You don't know anything!" She spits back, almost snarling like a feral dog at the intruder, waving her knife around like a madman, causing Harley to get jostled around and her grip to loosen.

The figure takes that as he cue, jumping into action with a "Welp, guess we're doing this the hard way!", a white thing sticking to Harleys shirt and tugging him forward roughly, out of her hold and on to the ground before Harley can even blink. He tries to catch himself as he falls and partially succeeds, only scraping up his hands and knees in the process. But scraped up knees and hands is much,  _much_ better than a knife against his throat.

He hears thumps and crashes behind him, but doesn't turn around, just picks himself back up and runs. He runs to the end of the alleyway, breaths coming in short gasps and wheezes, his heart jumping up into his throat when he realizes it's a dead end. * _Shit, shit shit shit-_ * He's stuck, he could- could jump over the railing, but that doesn't seem like a good idea, he probably wouldn't make it, but he can't turn back either because the lady is still there, she could still be there, ready to take whatever else she wanted from him, or- or the other person could come after him to, want  _something_ from him for saving him, or- No, no, stop it, think of ways out of here, think, think-

He turns around to try and find another way out, another exit, considering scaling the building beside him, only to find two big white buglike eyes staring back at him. Harley jumps again, lets out another muffled screech and trips over himself trying to get away, collapsing back into the ground.

"Woah, woah!" The person raises their hands up slowly, carefully, body relaxed, body language open. "I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe now."

Harley stays on the ground, his back surely covered in dirt, mud and other things he didn't even want to know about, blurry eyes flickering over the person's body. A red, tightfitting outfit with blue highlights and black wiring, * _holy shit it is Spider-Man what the fuck_ *. It truely  _was_  Spider-Man who had come to save him. At any other time, Harley wouldve been ecstatic to meet Spider-Man, meet a  _real life superhero_ , but right now, he doesn't even give the man a second glance, looking all around them, checking to see if the wowans still around, if she's going to be coming back, if there's more of them, his thoughts spiraling, spiraling, he couldve died, he could've  _died_ , and he  _can't breath_  and-

"Hey," Spidermans voice cuts through his thoughts, and Harley gaze flicks back to the man, eyes wide, heart thumping, racing, clawing at his chest like a wild animal caught in a cage, trying trying trying to escape. The man's voice is softer now, gentle, low. "I'm going to step closer, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." Harley watches warily, body tensing, chest still heaving for air as he approaches slowly, step by step, before kneeling down beside him. "Now, I'm going to grab your right hand, okay?"

Harley had no idea where Spider-Man was going with this, but he could barely hear over his pounding heart and the rushing blood at this point, could barely focus through the burning growing in his chest, in his lungs, and so he lets the man do as he wishes, nodding rapidly to give his consent. Or whatever.

Spidey picks up his now shaking hand gently, and presses it to the left side of his chest, allowing Harley to feel the steady, strong beating from beneath his fingertips.  _Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum..._ "Can you feel that?" Harley nods once shakily, tears pooling at the bottom of his chin. He didn't even realize he had started crying. "Feel my breathing?" He could see his hand rising and falling steadily alongside the man's chest, feel the push and pull of skin underneath the spandex looking suit. He nods again, more firm this time. "Good, now can you try and copy it for me?" The man coaxes, still gentle, still kind.

So Harley does. It takes a few tries, a few attempts of taking in a bigger breath only to wheeze it back out a few seconds later, listening to the man's encouraging words of  _"try again, you got this, there you go, just like that"_  until he finally, finally catches his breath and his body finally relents, and loosens a little bit. Not a lot, but he doesn't feel found up a chemical reaction ready to explode anymore, so thats always an improvement.

He takes a few deep, deep breaths, allowing the precious air to cool down his burning lungs and aching chest, eyeing the bug man, arachnid man? Still knelt down next to him, wallet placed on the ground beside them. The person seems to sense his gaze, shifting into a more comfortable position as his mask twitches slightly upward, as if he's smiling. "Hey, feeling a bit better?"

"Yeah-" he coughs, his throat hoarse and dry. He swallows before continuing, "Yeah, thanks." Suddenly, another shot of fear shoots through him and he sits up ramrod straight. "Wait, where's-"

"The lady?" Spider-Man cuts him off, and juts his head back and a bit to the right, mask twitching again. "Oh she's back there, all webbed up, don't worry. And the cops are on the way too, should be here soon, actually." He tilts his head to the side now, almost like a puppy, eye slits narrowing slightly. Without a mouth or any facial expressions noticable, the narrowed eyes are kind of intimidating, and Harley feels a slight shiver run through him. " _Really_ soon, I should probably go-"

"Wait!" Harley blurts out before he even think as he watches the man stand and turn away, about to shoot something (a web, Harley thinks thats that the white stuff is, he hopes it not anything else) and leave. Spidey turns back around quizitively, head tilted, arm still outstretched towards the building beside them, and Harley flushes when all of his attention is on him, white eyesocket things seeming to stare right through him, into his soul. "I-I just- I don't- I don't know how to get home."

The mask blinks (man, that was weird to watch) in what seems like shock, his back straightening slightly. "Oh! Okay, what's your address?" Harley gives it to him shakily, and the masked vigilante nods slowly. "Gotcha, gotcha, that's just a few blocks down from here."

Harley goes to stand up, to thank the man for the somewhat lackluster but still better than nothing instructions and be on his way, to try and find his back home alone (Harley gulps subconciously, his chest seizing at the thought of being alone, of this happening again-), but before he can get his trembling (when he did start shaking?) limbs to move, a red hand is placed right in front of his face, arm outstretched. He stares at it, trails the arm back up to the emotionless face peering back at him, completely confused, but the man just waves his hand impatiently, the sound of sirens starting to sound in the distance. "Come on, slowpoke, we gotta go."

* _We?_ * Harley's about to ask, but as soon as he places his hand in Spideys, the man yanks him up off of the ground and upright with way too much strength for a human (Harley did not yelp when he happened, he did  _not_ ), wraps an arm around his waist, exclaims a cheery "Hold on!" and then they're flying, the vigilante shooting a web and soaring into the sky. Harley's question turns into a half bitten scream, and he wraps his limbs around the man tightly, digging his fingers into the sleek red material and burying his face into the man's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. * _Oh god oh god oh god we're gonna die in gonna die oh god-_ *

"Relax," he hears a faint murmur right beside his ear, and his breath hicks, his face warming, "I got you." And somehow, for some reason, Harley believes him. Trusts him. Trusts that he won't drop him, trusts that they won't go splat in the concrete like an ice cream scoop off of a kids cone. And he relaxes, his body untensing slightly, his grip loosening lightly. He even lifts his head a bit, opens his eyes, watches as the ground rushes back them, sways, the sky going up and down with each swing and * _nope, nope, that's enough of that_ *. He closes his eyes again, but not nearly as tight as before.

Not that its not focused on his imminent death, or becoming a pancake on the road, Harley brain finally catches up to itself with what the fuck had happened tonight, and he feels sick, his stomach churning and his blood running cold. He was in a mugging. A  _mugging_ , with someone _r_ _obbing_  him with a  _knife_. He could have died. He could have died, and he never would have gone to school again, never would have seen MJ or Ned or  _Peter_ , God  _Peter_  again, never would seen Mr or Mrs. Davis again, never would've had supper together, chatting about nothing, or have another movie night together again, or anything. No more hugs, or goodnights, or forehead kisses. No more Sunday morning breakfasts or uncomfortable feelings when Mr. and Mrs. Davis get a little too cozy together around him. There would have been nothing. He could have  _died_ , and the last conversation he would have ever had with them was a fight, and his last words would have been lies, words spwed from anger that he didn't really mean. He did care about them, and they- they were kind of becoming like parents to him, even if the thought makes him ache with guilt of moving on from his own mother, his ma. But she would've wanted him to, would have wanted him to move on, to have a new start, a new family, and maybe...

Maybe, just maybe, the Davis's could be that for him.

He had to talk with them. He had to make this right.

The speed slows, before they suddenly hook around a lamp pole, the sudden loss of momentum making Harley lurch forward, but the man kept his promise and held Harley tight, insuring that he wouldn't fall. He then lowers Harley slowly to the ground by web, his legs wobbling beneath him as he lands, all of the energy sucked out of him, his adrenaline from earlier gone. Once Harley is safely on the ground, Spidey then hangs down from another web caught on the top of the lamp post, until his face is directly in front of Harley's, upside down.

"Well, here we are!" The man opens one of his arms up in a 'ta-da!' movement, the other still firmly wrapped around the web. Harley looks over his shoulfer at the tall, tall building (the buildings here are still so tall to Harley, nothing like the small cozy homes in Tennessee) behind him, stumbling a little, feeling kind of off kilterb, a bit jumbled. Huh, so they are. The eyes of the mask narrow again, and his head cocks to the side again before Spidey asks "Do you want me to walk you inside? You seem kinda unsteady there-"

"No, no, I- I got it." He turns back to the man, giving him a shaky, small smile, too exhausted to try for anything more. "Thank you, so, so,  _so_  much." He breaths it out more than saying it, his throat closing in on itself again as he realizes yet again that if this man hadn't showed up, Harley could have, probably  _would_ have died on the streets of New York, and nobody would have known. He thought Spider-Man was cool before tonight (and if he had the energy and didn't feel like he was about to collapse, he would probably be raging about how  _he actually got to meet Spider-Man_ _oh my god_ ), but now, the man had  _saved_ him, had saved his life. He couldn't be more thankful.

He should say more, say how thankful be really was, but the man seemed to understand, nodding once with a soft "No problem." before climbing back up the web. He crouches on the top of the lamp, in his signature spider esk pose, and shoots a web off into the distance. He pauses then, looking back over his shoulder. "Stay safe." And then he's off, flying (swinging) away, off to god knows where.

Harley watches in for a few moments, before forcing his weak legs to move, shuffling through the front doors of the building. He makes his way up to the apartment without collapsing somehow,  opens the door with a little bit of fuss (his hands wont stop  _shaking_ , his eyes wont stop  _blurring_ , god d _amn it_ ) and as soon as he walks in, sees Mr. and Mrs. Davis standing in the hallway, eyes wide, worried, heartbroken, he finally crumbles, giving into the sobs that he been burning at the back of his throat all night, giving into the exhaustion that tugs at his limbs, falling into the Davis' arms, giving into the longing for comfort, security, family, love and hugging them back tightly, crying loudly into their shoulders, stuttering out apologies "I'm-I'm s-sorry i didn't- didn't mean it, I-" and them whispering reassurances back "We know, sweetheart, we know. We're sorry too.".

Later, they all sit down, the three of them, and talk about what happened that night, the fight, the mugging, all of it. Later, Harley will tell them that yes, he is starting to see them as family, but that the familial names may be hard for him to get used to, he may not use them at all, and the Davis' will understand completely. Later, Harley will tell them about the mugging, about how he got saved, and the Davis' will cry and panic and freakout about the whole situation, will feel guilty, and will hold Harley so so tight, thanking every god out there (and Spider-Man) that they didn't lose their kid. Later, they'll all go to bed feeling lighter than they had the night before, knowing where everybody stands, knowing they have the beginning of what could be family.

Later. For now, though, Harley will keep gripping onto them so so tight, eyes shut, tears falling, but surrounded by the warmth, comfort and, dare he say, love of his potential new family.


	17. First Reassurances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Guess who's back, back again
> 
> Its finally winter break (thank God) so I can finally refocus my attention on to this fic. My December is still pretty busy (adulting sucks), but I'm hoping that I'll have the time to write a few of these chapters in advance so that this fic can come out a little more frequently, even when school starts back up. No promises, but I'm gonna try. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the patience, and all the kind comments and kudos. It means more to me than you'll ever know :')
> 
> I love you all, and I hope you have a great winter break/a happy holidays!  
> Hope you guys enjoy! :))

"Have you guys seen Harley today??"

His friend blink up at him blankly, as if they didn't expect his sudden question. Peter doesn't blame them, he did just randomly storm over here and interrupt whatever conversation they were having. Normally he'd feel bad for doing something like that, or he would wait for a break in the conversation before butting in, but he didnt have that kind of patience right now, he couldn't. Not with his heart thrumming and his mind racing, going through multiple worst case scenarios.

"Good morning to you too," MJ deadpans dryly, and Peter just rolls his eyes with a huff, tapping his foot rapidly, his fingers fidgeting and picking at his clothes.

"Yeah, hi, hey, good morning. Have you seen him, yes or no?"

"No?" Ned doesn't seem as shocked or surprised at Peter's blunt interuption, probably used to Peter's spontaneous nature by now. He does look a bit confused though, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. "Isn't he in your English?"

"Yes! But he wasn't there!" He spits out, flailing his arms dramatically, his words having a bit more bite than intentional. He feels something like irritation burning in his chest, but he knows he's not actually angry, knows he has no reason to be, especially not at Ned or MJ. No, he's just... Scared. Worried.

His friends seem to catch onto that, thankfully, and MJ's eyes soften as her voice does, "Maybe he's just sick. It's only recess."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about." He puffs out a breath, all of his pent up energy slipping away with ease, his anger giving way to his anxiety. His friends just stare at him patiently, waiting for an explanation, and he doesnt make them wait very long, shuffling forward and glancing up and down the hallways before continuing. "Last night, when I was out doing- _you know what_ , I heard a scream. So I went to go stop it, obviously, and at first, I just thought it was a normal mugging, nothing unusual, but then I swing in closer, and turns out the guy getting mugged was _Harley_ -"

"Holy shit, Harley got mugged?!?" Ned exclaims a little too loud for comfort. MJ and Peter quickly shush him, Peter glancing around again before glaring heatedly at his best friend. His best friend who couldn't keep his mouth shut sometimes.

" _Dude!_ "

"Sorry!" His voice is a whisper now, and Peter sighs, long and slow.

"It's fine. Anyways, so it was _Harley_ , right? and this lady's got a knife up to his throat, and I'm just there like 'oh shit oh shit what the hell do I do?' But then she got cocky and uppity and moved the knife away, so I got Harley out of the way and fought her and that's all fine and dandy but then Harley was freaking out, like, _freaking out_  freaking out, and then I was freaking out because 'holy shit my crush is having a panic attack and just got mugged in front of me', you know? So then I calmed him down and brought him home and stuff but he still seemed upset and out of it and I dunno I'm just- I'm just worried." He sucks in a deep breath, his lungs burning after his ramble of a story. He glances between his two friends, both of them wearing looks of bewilderment, Ned a lot more prominently than MJ, his eyes wide and mouth gaping.

MJ just blinks for a few seconds before responding, voice slow and thought out. "His parents probably just made him stay home today, especially if he was shaken up about it like you said. You should just text him and ask."

Peter feels the 'irritation' from earlier flair back up, and he huffs. "And say what? 'Hey, how are you doing after your mugging that I definitely shouldn't know anything about but do anyways because, by the way, I'm Spider-Man?'"

"Or," MJ glares at him lightly, a warning, and Peter takes the hint, taking a deep breath. "You could text and ask where he is, because he isn't in school. You know, like a _normal human being_."

Peter lets out the breath slowly, his shoulders sagging, and he leans back against the lockers between his two friends. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. I just- I guess I was hoping he'd be here anyways, just so that I could, I dunno, make sure that he was okay. Or something."

Neds hand plops onto his shoulder then, and squeezes once, a sympathetic look on his face. "I'm sure he'll be alright, man."

MJ rolls her eyes with an amused huff, the previous fire gone from her eyes. "He'll be fine, the kid's tough." She pauses, before leveling both boys with a deep scowl. "Don't tell him I said that."

Ned grins cheekily and chirps out a "No promises!". MJ just glares at him harder, and Peter snorts out a laugh as he pulls out his phone, his anxious concern dulling from a roaring waterfall to a light trickle, a gentle stream.

Peter plays with his phone in his hands for a few seconds, before opening it up and typing out a message to him, sending it before he can over think.

_**'Hey man, didn't see you in class, everything okay?'** _

There's a few seconds of silence between the friend group, until Ned breaks it, his grin turning smug. "So, you finally figured it out, eh?"

Peter's face scrunches up as he places his phone back into his pocket and glances back up. "Figured it out?" He echoes, replaying the previous conversation in his mind to try and see what Ned is talking about. What did he 'figure out'? He doesn't think he figured anything out, aside from Harley's anxiety (which he wasn't really surprised about, from the way Harley acted at the beginning of the semester), so what would he figure out?

"Your crush on Harley?"

Oh.

Wait, what? Peters face burns as he stammers out a shaky, high pitched "uh, uhm, w-what?"

MJ gives him a small, cheeky smirk, her chestnut eyes twinkling with amusement. "During your spiel, you referred to Harley as 'your crush'".

He blinks repeatedly for a few seconds, and he can practically feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he squeaks out, "I-I did?!?" Both of his friends nod at him with incredulous expressions, Ned with an eyebrow raised and MJ with another roll of the eyes. "Huh." He swallows heavily. This wasn't exactly how he had planned on telling them, but sometimes you just had to go with the flow. He knew they would be supportive (why wouldn't they be, MJ was also bisexual and had dated plenty of girls in the past) but there was always this inkling of doubt in some corner of his mind that wouldn't let him settle, wouldn't let himself relax until he knew _for sure._  So he steels himself, his body tensing and shoulders raising subconciously before he looks them both in the eye and he stammers out, "Uh, well, yeah, I- I guess I did. I-is that okay?"

"Okay?" Ned repeats, sounding flabbergasted before bursting into laughing and shoving Peter's shoulder with his own. His laugh causes Peter to immediately relax, untensing and almost making him laugh right along with him, as if it was contagious. "Are you kidding me? Dude, it took you long enough, Jesus."

"Wait, waitwaitwait, you guys knew?!?"

"Of course we knew, dipshit. You guys are so obvious." MJ scoffs, but her light smile tells her true feelings. "Constantly giving each other heart eyes, following each other around like puppies. It's kinda gross, honestly."

Peter allows himself to laugh a little now, feeling relieved, even as his voice is timid and his face is flushed when he asks, "Is it really that obvious?" Before pausing. "Wait, giving _each other_ \- Wha-"

His phone vibrates just as MJ bangs her head against the locker with a frustrated groan. Peter gives her a weird look, before checking his phone, his heart starting to race again, eager for Harley's response.

**'Yeah I'm okay. Shit happened last night, and my guardians wanted me to stay home for the day. Everything's good now tho no worries :)'**

Peter's lips twist into a frown, unconvinced, and glances up to see his friends whispering to each other, locked in their own conversation ( _scheming_  from the looks of it, he should probably be worried about that), before putting all of his focus back into the text conversation.

He wants to ask Harley if he's sure, if he's _really_ okay, but he can't. He has to pretend like he doesn't know what happened, like he doesn't know that Harley had a god awful night last night, that he got mugged and had a panic attack in front of Peter's own two eyes. So he can't say anything, he just has to believe Harley's word and hope he's being honest. _**'**_ _ **okay, hope everythings alright.'**_

Harley responds quickly, before Peter can finish the next message he's already typing up. **'it is, Pete, I promise'**

Its not enough to soothe all of Peter's worries, but it definitely helps melt some of the ice surrounding his lungs, his breaths coming easier and his chest loosening. He smiles down at his phone, small and careful, before finishing his new message and sending it just as the bell rings for next period.

_**'you still coming to the tower later or nah? Its okay if you can't, no pressure, just curious!'** _

"He seems alright." He announces, just as his friends prepare to go their separate ways again for the afternoon.

Ned gives him a large grin, and nudges his shoulder again. "See, told you he would be!" Peter just sends him a slightly skewed smile and echoes back his "see you later!" as Ned scurries down the hall towards his next class.

MJ doesn't say anything, just giving him a small, real smile before they start to walk to their next class side by side, opposite to the way Ned went.

As soon as he's in his seat, books placed haphazardly on his desk, he checks his phone one last time before class starts.

**'of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world ;)'**

Peter's smile grows as butterflies swirl in his stomach. He reads the message a few more times before putting it away and opening his notes, forcing himself to pay attention to the lesson.

\--

2:53 is displayed in bright red numbers. A few more minutes. A few more minutes until he can get out of his hell hole, meet up with Harley and get to the tower, his safe haven. 12 more minutes, and he's free. Thank God.

He's staring at the teacher, but none of the words spoken are being retained, the shapes and numbers on the board looking like blobs to Peter's distracted mind. He barely notices how he's shifting repeatedly in his seat, how his leg is bouncing and his hand is clicking his pen over and over until the hairs on his arm stand up for a second, a shiver running down his neck right before a wad of paper smacks him in the back of the head.

Peter winces, before turning in his seat to look back at Flash, who's giving him a heated glare that could rival the flames of hell. "Stop moving, dickwad, some of us are actually trying to pay attention here."

He mumbles out a faint "sorry," before refacing the board, crossing his arms and forcing himself to sit still. As much as he doesn't like Flash, he respects him enough to listen when he's not being an asshole. Flash may be a dick sometimes, but he's no Cameron Martin, and that's all that matters.

Speaking of Cam, the boy hadn't bothered Peter at all today, which was... _weird_ to say the least. He used to pick on Peter everyday, shoving him into lockers or knocking down his books in the hallway, and if he wasn't physical, he was _always_ there to berate and belittle him, to call him names and slurs and make him feel the like the scum of the earth. Peter doesn't remember a day within the past year when Cam hadnt done _anything_ with him (aside from the week or two where he was suspended, when he literally _couldn't_  do anything to him). The fact that Cam didn't push him, or mock him, or do anything to him at all today is making him extremely uneasy, on high alert at all times for when the ball was finally going to drop.

But it never did. Which is another reason Peter wants to get out of this damn building _as soon as physically possible_. So that he doesn't give that damn ball the chance to drop, for Cam to do something to him, for something _else_  to go wrong.

He glances back up to the clock, and has to stifle a groan. 2:58. Five minutes. How could five minutes feel like seconds in some moments, but hours in others? And why does _now_  have to be the latter, and not the former? * _Probably because you're being impaitent, dumbass._ * Peter huffs out a low breath, and picks back up his pen, attempting to focus back on the teacher as he feels time tick on.

It takes what feels like a few more hours, but eventually ( _finally_ ) the clock shifts to 3:05, the bell rings out loud and proud, and Peter books it out of his seat before anyone else has even finished packing their things. He reaches his locker in record time, grabs his bag and his winter jacket, and is out the doors just as the clock hits 3:06.

The bitter winter air rushes through him, and he instinctively shivers before looking around, finding the black limousine that sticks out like a sore thumb quickly and heading towards it. He moves at a light jog, hoping it'll help warm him up a smidge (even as his brain tells him to * _just put on your winter coat idiot it's around your arm_ *). As soon as he makes it, he opens the door, shuffling insane and slamming it as soon as possible, letting out a loud " _brrrr!"_  and shifting so he can rub his goosebump riddled arms.

"Jeez, it is cold outside!" He exclaims more to himself than anything, before turning his attention to the front of the car. "Hey, Happy!"

The man grunts, but there's a light smile on his face, a drastic difference from the first few months they had known each other.  "Hey kid. Put on your jacket, I'm not facing your aunts wrath if you wake up tomorrow with a cold."

Peter rolls his eyes with an amused huff,  but does as he's told (mostly because it's _really fucking cold_ ), shoving his arms into the sleeves and zipping it up, the light blue waterproof material hugging his body. "Okay, _mom_."

Happy doesn't even dignify that with a response, although his twisted up face says plenty, and Peter falls into a bout of laughter, making him feel lighter (and warmer) than he has all day.

After a few moments of Peter's chuckles slowly settling down, Happy speaks back up. "We're still picking up your friend, right?"

That was what him and Harley had agreed upon earlier in the day, once Peter realized that the plan of Happy picking both of them up at the school wasn't going to work when Harley _wasn't at the school._  Peter noticeably brightens at the reminder. "Yup! Actually, I should tell him were on the way."

He takes back out his phone, and sends a quick message, putting it into his coat pocket once he received an affirmative. Now that they're actually on the way to get him, Peter can't decide whether the nausea he's feeling is from excitement or nerves. This is only the second time they're hanging out together after school and the _only_ time they're doing it by themselves. It's... Scary. Exciting, sure, but also extremely nervewracking. Especially now that Peter knows he has a crush on the guy. He could barely handle himself in school, in a classroom with people surrounding them, how the hell was he going to survive multiple hours with Harley potentially _by themselves?_ No, yeah, the nausea is definitely from nerves, that's definitely not excitement cutting into his stomach like knives, no siree.

Luckily (or unluckily) for Peter, they make it to Harley's apartment building fairly quickly, and the next thing he knows, the door on the opposite side of the car is opening up, and a body is siddling in, slamming the door behind him.

Peter doesn't even get the chance to process before Harley's speaking, voice firm. "Don't freak out, it looks worse than it is."

Peter stares at him quizzingly at first, before his eye catches onto red and his breath hicks. There's a long, dark red line going across Harley's throat, almost looking like an incision a surgeon would make, but less fincessed, more jagged. Sure, Peter had seen the women press a knife to his throat, but he hadn't realized that it actually slit into him. And yeah, he could tell it wasn't deep, but there was still _a line going across his crushes neck_ , and Peter couldn't stop the wounded, terrified noise from escaping his lips.

Harley lets out a soft sad sigh, as if he expected this reaction. "It's okay, Pete, really, it doesn't even sting."

Peter shifts across the seat without thinking, and presses a gentle hand to the wound, jerking it back rapidly when Harley winces slightly. Peter narrows his eyes at him. "Liar. It doesn't seem okay." His voice is shakier than he'd like it to be, but its the least of his worries as he stares at the jagged line, his heart in his throat. "It doesn't seem okay at all. What happened??"

He hears the divider slide up, and tells himself to thank Happy later when Harley's (* _gorgeous, gleaming_ *) eyes darken and glance downwards, his (* _beautiful, plump looking- not the time!_ *) lips tilting into a frown. "It's a long story."

Peter lets out another noise, this time disapproving, and presses his hand to Harley's neck again, lighter than before. "We got time."

"Do we?" Harley looks back up and their eyes reconnect, weary blues meeting pleading browns, before he sighs once again. "Okay, okay, fine."

Peter listens intently as Harley recounts the tale, even if he already knows most of it. By the time he's finished, his body is tense and his face is scrunched up slightly, his body language screaming out discomfort and anxiety. It breaks Peter's heart, and he barely thinks before he's wrapping Harley into a hug, wrapping his arms softly around his waist and pulling him in close.

"Im so sorry, Harley," Peter whispers, face pressed into Harleys shoulder, feeling the guilt and shame wash over him. Maybe if he had gotten there faster, stopped the lady sooner, maybe Harley wouldn't have had to feel this way. Maybe Harley wouldn't have had to be affected at all.

But Harley just snorts out a small laugh, breathy chuckles, and Peter can feel his head shaking slightly against his own shoulder, Harley reaching to return the close knit hug they've formed. "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault.".

* _But it was. It was my fault. I should've been faster, should've been there sooner._ * Peter wants to say. "It just sounds awful, I'm sorry you had to go through it." Is what Peter chokes out instead, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.

"It's alright. It _will_ be alright." The other boy revises, squeezing his arms around Peter's back. " _I_ will be alright."

Peter takes a deep breath, forcing away his spiraling thoughts and gripping onto the back of Harley's black sweater, holding him close. "I hope so."

They stay in this embrace, heads resting on each others shoulders, breath brushing against each others necks, arms wrapped around each other tightly, secure and warm and _safe_ , _alive_ , until the sky high tower comes into view, the reflective windows shining with the afterglow of the setting sun.


	18. First Not Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, remember when I said I was gonna work on this over Christmas break? I lied. I very much so lied.  
> I'm sorry
> 
> But hey! New chapter! That's always exciting.   
> This one went off the rails a little. And by a little I mean a lot.  
> It's also unedited. So if it's all over the place and badly written, I am also sorry
> 
> Dunno when the next chapters gonna be out. But this fic will be finished! Eventually
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. You're all amazing, and I love you all  
> I hope you enjoy :) ❤💞

' _I dont want to let go.'_

Harley puffs out a slow breath, pushing his face further into Peter's neck and tightening his grip onto the back of his coat, eyes squeezed shut. He feels... tired, exhausted more like it, as if recounting the events to Peter sucked all of the energy out of him. He knew as soon as he got into the car, as soon as he'd looked into a mirror and saw the thin red, angry line across his throat that Peter would react badly, would be shocked, worried, _afraid_. Oh, the fear in Peter's eyes, the way he had looked so scared, so worried... Harley shakes the thoughts away, focusing on Peter's soft breathing, on the warm, strong embrace they had found themselves in for the past few minutes. His safety blanket, his quiet reassurance that he's okay, really, truly okay, even if he's a little shaken.

He's more than a little bit shaken, if he's being completely honest with himself. No matter how much he tries to distract himself, had tried all day to avoid his racing thoughts, his focus always came back to the one thing his brain had latched on to after his mugging and wouldn't let go. He _almost died._ If things had gone any differently, if Harley had refused to give up his wallet, if Spider-Man hadnt showed up, if the man had pulled him slightly to the right, if if if, all these what if's running through his head. If things hadnt happened _exactly_ the way that they did, Harley _could have died_.

He could have died, and he wouldn't have gotten the chance to do anything. No more movie nights, where he stuffs his face with popcorn and laughs or cries or jumps in fright at whatever he chose to watch. No more ordering pizza and waiting by the windows for it to show up, only to get all giddy when it arrives. No more sitting at the dinner table with Mr. and Mrs. Davis, chatting about everything and nothing all at once. No more laughing at some crazy story Ned blurts out during lunchtime at school, or at MJ's rebuttals during an argument. No- no more _Peter_.

No more subtle glances in his direction when Peter thinks he isn't looking. No more of those bright, toothy grins Peter loves to give him whenever he says something witty, eyes crinkled and shining with amusement and glee. No more rosy cheeks and bashful smiles when Harley finally finds the courage to compliment Peter, no more shaky, but genuine "thank you"s in return. No more adorable grimaces, eyebrows furrowed and freckled nose all scrunched up, whenever someone says something gross. No more light, airy laughter, sounding breathless, but so full of life at the same time. No more curious chestnut brown eyes, with some flecks of green and gold, staring back into his, always filled to the brim with kindness and joy, _love_ and warmth, always finding something within Harley only Peter can see. No more of these hugs, this heartfelt, tight, squeezing hugs that just make Harley feel like safe, and secure, and so so _happy._

No more chances to tell him how he truly feels. And he cant let it go to waste.

He was kept alive for a reason, he was kept on this earth for a reason. God gave him a second chance for _something,_ and Harley cant let it go to waste. He _wont_.

The car sharply turns, Peter has to let go and press a hand against the seat beside them to regain his balance, and Harley snaps out of his thoughts, the moment broken.

Peter huffs, glaring at the back of the driver's seat as he shifts back slightly, pulling away completely from the hug. "Sorry," he looks back to Harley, smiling sheepishly.

Harley shakes his head, smiling back softly. "Its okay." He glances out the window to see what caused the sudden turn, only to see row upon row of brand new, expensive looking cars, their metal shining in the bright artificial lights of what looks like a garage. His eyes practically bulge out of his head as they drive past the rows, his brain automatically cataloguing the brand names and model types that he can recognize, not noticing when a small, breathless "woah," escaped his lips.

"Kinda crazy, right?" He glances back to Peter, his eyes twinkling with mirth but swirling with another softer emotion, his face open and vulnerable in a way that causes Harleys inside to twist and his heart to flutter.

He has to force his face not to flush, grinning wide at his admirer before looking back out the window again. "Are you kidding? This is amazing!"

Peter's laugh is a little more pronounced this time, beginning to sound more like his normal self again. "This is just the garage! You're gonna _die_ once you see the lab!"

"No dying in the tower." The driver grumbles, voice gruff and stern as he shuts off the car and exits it swiftly, slamming it behind him.

Harleys face scrunches up, _'what stick is up his ass',_  when Peter speaks up again, rolling his eyes. "That's Happy, and as much as he likes to act all grumpy, and like he doesn't care, I know he does. He's got a soft spot for me." He stage whispers the last part, and winks conspicuously before hopping out of the car and holding the door out for Harley, who follows suit, stifling a snort of laughter, the memories of the previous night slowly pushing to the back of his mind.

Harley spins slowly as they walk, taking one last heaping look of the huge garage, before realizing he's falling behind and rushing forward to keep up, stepping into the elevator a second or two after Grumpy did, the doors closing immediately behind him. Suddenly, as the elevator springs to life without any prompting, a loud feminine voice rings out in the small area, and Harley flinches at the sound.

"Welcome home, Peter." Harley glances up and around him, only seeing Peter and Grumpy in the elevator and getting confused, eyebrows furrowing. _'wha? Where did-??'_

Peter just smiles at him, before glancing up at the ceiling and answering the mysterious voice. "Thanks Fri!" He looks back to Harley, and his amused smile only seems to grow at whatever bewildered expression he has on his face. "Fri, this is Harley Keener. Harley, this is F.R.I.D.A.Y, she's Mr. Starks personal AI. Well, shes technically a user interface, created to help him in his suit, but Mr. Stark implimented her into the tower to try and help run things more smoothly, so she's pretty much an AI now." At Harleys dropped jaw, Peter's smile grows into a full out grin. "Pretty cool, right?"

"Hello, Mr. Keener." The voice, FRIDAY, greets, her voice sounding warm and borderline amused, which piques Harleys curiosity even more. This AI must be pretty advanced to be able to articulate words with context and tone behind them, much less be able to run a building.

Harley itches to find out more, to ask everyone question under the sun about how this works (' _is the arc reactor powering all of this? How much power does it take? What does the AI do for the building, security, surveillance? What can it do?? How did Mr. Stark create something this advanced? How long did it take? What did he use?'_ ) but all he can seem to muster out of his jumbled thoughts is a simple, quiet "Hi."

There's a snort from beside him, Grumpy finally showing some other emotion other than, well, grumpiness, before the doors swing back open, and the air rushes out of Harleys lungs for the third time in about ten minutes.

The first thing Harley notices about the room they just stepped in to is that it is _huge._  But not just like, big huge, but gigantic huge. Like, the 'size of the Davis's entire apartment but it's only one room' huge. Then, he notices all the details.

The kitchen is immaculate on the right side of the room, with what looks like mahogany wood cabinets, a marble gray and brown granite countertop, stainless steel appliances (including a pizza oven) and a long island that looks long enough to feed ten people acting as a divider between the kitchen and the living room. On the other side, the wall is replaced with top to bottom, floor to ceiling windows that show an amazing, breathtaking view of New York City, leading away into the atlantic ocean. And right in the middle of them both, sits the living room, multiple black leather couches surrounding a giant flat screen TV on the wall that must at least be 60 inches, with surround sound built ins sitting next to it. And on one of the couches, the one on the far right, sits the Tony Stark himself, staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed, an intense, concerned look on his face.

Harley needs to remind himself to breathe. Passing out would probably be a pretty awful first impression, after all.

"Mr. Stark!" Tony Stark's ( _'holy shit it's actually Tony Stark holy shIT-'_ ) head shoots up at Peter's surpised tone, the worried look on his face wiping away into his signature grin right before Harleys eyes ( _'holy shit holy shit holy shit okay, breathe, Harley, BREATHE-'_ ). "I-I thought you'd meet us down in the lab."

"Well, I figured I'd come up and put a face to the name you won't shut up about." Tony Stark's grin widens as Harleys jaw loosens even more, his eyes as wide as saucers, his face burning. Peter doesnt shut up about him? ...really? A warmth fills his chest at the thought, a small smile growing on his face.

He glances over to Peter, noticing his bright red face, burning ear tips, and the way his eyes are narrowed into slits, glaring at _Tony Stark_ like it was nothing. " _Mr. Stark!_ " He whines, his voice coming out slightly choked, his embarrassment clear as day, and Tony Stark just laughs at him.

He's acting kind of like a- like a _parent_ to Peter, and the familiarity of it causes Harley to relax slightly, even if it also causes a slight pang of envy that Harley tries desperately to ignore.

Tony Stark's eyes lock on to his, and Harleys breath catches again, tensing up again under his heavy, calculating stare. "You know, Pete, I expected him to be taller and mighter from the way you're always describing him, more heroic, you know, Prince Charming-esque."

Peter sputters, somehow turning even more red and embarrassed, but Harley just feels the bitterness rise back in his throat for a completely different reason. His voice was teasing, Harley knows it was just that, a tease, but something about the words just rubbed him the wrong way, and before he realizes what hes doing, he snarks out, "At least I'm taller than you, old man!"

He smacks a hand over his mouth as soon as the words are out, appalled at the fact not only was he rude to a stranger, to Peter's borderline father figure, but at the fact that he said that to _Tony Stark, Iron Man himself._  Everyone else looks shocked too, Peter's mouth is gaping open, eyes wide and fearful, while Tony Starks face is blank, no readable emotion on it. So much for making a good impression.

There's a few uncomfortable, anxiety filled moments where Harley thinks _'this is it, I'm gonna be taken out by Iron Man, this is how I die'_ , before the man snorts loudly, bursting into loud chuckles that sound like an angel singing to Harley's anxiety riddled mind.

He plops a hand on to his still tensed up shoulder and glances to Peter before nodding his head in Harleys direction, grinning. "I like this kid." The man lets go of his shoulder as he passes, and Harley blows out a relieved breath, trying to calm his hammering heart. He glances over to Peter, who looking at the ground with a wide, toothy smile on his still blood red face, and Harley cant help but to smile as well, the pure elation on his face contagious, and causing his heart to continue beating at its fast pace.

Peter eyes flick up to him, and his face flushes again, before he coughs, trying to play off whatever emotions he's feeling right now. "Well- uh- do- do you want something to eat? I normally get a snack before I go down to the lab, just in case we get too invested and forget later on. That shouldn't happen today, but you know-" He cuts himself off then, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Harley chuckles and nods, very amused by Peter's antics. _'He's so fucking cute, its gonna be the death of me'._  "Sounds good to me."

Peter recovers pretty quickly though, clapping his hands together and bouncing on his feet. "Alrighty, cool!"

They move to the kitchen, Peter opening the fridge to grab something in there while Harley grabs an apple out of the food bowl on the island, checking to make sure it was real before taking a bite out of it. Peter pulls out a small, readymade salad from the fridge, and they eat in relative silence until Mr. Stark breaks it again, Harley jumping slightly. He definitely didnt lose himself in watching Peter eat, watching his lips as he takes big bites of the salad, swiping his tongue over them when the vinaigrette starts to slip out of his mouth. He definitely didnt forgot that Tony Stark was in the building, much less in the room with them, nope, definitely not, dont know what you're talking about.

"Well, that's my cue. I got a meeting in ten minutes, and Pepper will have my head if I'm not there on time, especially after last time." He visibly shivers at the thoughts, and Harley holds back a laugh as Peter openly does, his airy giggles filling the air and melting Harleys heart. He walks to the elevator, calling behind him "Dont do anything I would do-"

"And dont do anything you wouldn't do, yeah, yeah, I know." Peter answers as if he's heard it a million times (he probably has), rolling his eyes.

Mr. Stark looks over his shoulder, a teasing glint to his eyes as he points at the two of them. "I mean it, no funny business. Especially not in the lab, you'd be surprised how hard it is to clean up messes down there, especially when its-"

"OKAY, we get it, Mr. Stark!" Peter's face is a tomato again, his voice high pitched and strangled, and Harley would laugh, but he he can feel the heat radiating off of his own cheeks, and he feels squirmy at the _implications_ Mr. Stark is making about them. I mean, they arent even _dating_ , for Pete's ( _'Ha!')_  sake, much less doing anything like... that.

_'Yet,'_ his optimistic side chimes in. ' _As if he'd ever want to date you'_ , the rest of his mind spits back. Very helpful, brain, thank you _so_ much.

Mr. Stark just snickers, face full of a glee only a parent embarrassing their child could have. He yells out "Condoms are in your bedroom drawer!" just as the elevator doors shut behind him, and Peter groans loudly, slamming his head against the countertop.

He doesnt lift his head as he says, voice full of mortification and muffled slightly by the granite, "I'm sorry, about..." he pauses, before waving a hand blindly, "that."

"Its okay." Harley murmurs, awkwardly patting him on the back in an attempt to be reassuring. It doesn't work, it just kind of makes Harley feel stupid to be honest  so he tries another tactic. Changing the subject. "You know, he's a lot... different than I expected him to be."

Peter lifts his head slightly, his face turned towards Harley. Progress. "Mr. Stark?" When he nods, Peter snorts and sits all the way back up, sighing and rubbing his forehead with a wince. "Yeah, he's definitely not what they portray in the media. A lot more..."

"Paternal." Harley finishes for him, raising an eyebrow and grinning as Peter flushes once again.

"Yeah, I guess so."

They finish eating their respective snacks in a somewhat awkward silence before heading back to the elevator again. "Now, for the main event!" Peter opens his arms wide just as the doors reopen at their destination.

This room is smaller than the other, but still bigger than any room Harleys been in before today. There's multiple tables placed around the room in seemingly no order, covered in tools and scraps of metal, some of which indistinguishable, but others noticeably parts of the many iron man suits that exist, solidifying to Harley that he's _really in Tony Starks personal lab, 'wha- this is insane!-'_

There's also metal cabinets across one of the walls, some of the drawers ajar and skewed, like the person opening them couldn't bother to close them all the way. On the far left wall, behind glass, are the Iron Man suits in all of their glory, the real deals, as well as one Spider-Man suit right at the end of the row, and a small couch is beside the displays. On the far right wall is another floor to ceiling window, the natural light giving the harsh grays of the lab a softer glow. The whole place screams 'Tony Stark', which is a lot to take in on its own, but then Harley notices the little snipbits of _Peter_ scattered around the room too. There's a sweater thrown over one of the tables, a bright blue thats so clearly from Midtown High, open textbooks and loose leaf filled with notes and math equations scattered across the tables, a soft woolen blanket thrown over the couch, looking crumpled and used, a few granola bar wrappers placed here and there.

Peter's influence in the room is so clear, it's crazy. But if that wasn't bad enough, if that wasn't enough of a sensory overload for Harley (in a good way, Harley's never seen anything so 'science and engineering'-y in his life, it's amazing), before the boys can even say anything, a loud whirring sound fills the air and a big metal arm thing rolls over from the corner of the room, the whirring turning into chirps and whistles. Harley gasps and takes a step back, a shot of fear shooting through him, ( _'what the fuck?!?-_ ') and Peter steps in immediately, standing in front of Harley.

"Woah, woah! DUM-E!" Peter doesnt sound scared, or worried, he sounds like he's... scolding? The robot? And the robot _actually stops_ , and let's out another noise that sounds quizzitive, like it was _confused._ "You know thats not now we act around new people!" It answers with a sad whirr, the claw? of the arm lowering, as if it was bowing his head in shame. Peter sighs, and pats the arm, smiling gently at it. "Its okay, I know you didnt mean it. You were just excited, huh buddy?" He runs his hand up and down the metal arm, and the robot lets out a little _purr,_ and Harley is so confused, _'what is going on???'_

Peter looks back over at him then, and his face softens as he teases gently, "Come on, techie, he won't bite." Harley's heart gives a little flutter at the nickname, but he chooses to ignores it. He keeps a close eye on the robot, uneasy, but he trusts Peter, trusts him with his life, so he steps forward, and puts his hand into Peter's when he holds it out to him (forcing himself to ignore the way it causes his stomach to erupt into butterflies. Peter's hands are so _soft-_ ). "Harley, this is DUM-E, the first sentient robot Mr. Stark ever made. DUM-E, this is Harley, a friend of mine from school." Peter then places Harley's hand (still encased in his own, Harley's mind notes unhelpfully) onto the hard, cool metal arm, running it up and down gently. "He likes to be pet." Peter explains, voice soft and low, gentle and caring, and way closer to Harley than he expected, causing a shiver to run through him. If Peter notices, he doesn't say anything, just continuing their slow, careful strokes over the smooth material.

Harley swallows the butterflies trying to escape and chokes out a small, shaky "H-Hello." The robots chirps again, and his claw moves up and down in what looks like a wave. Harley cant help the breathy chuckle that escapes his lips, his body relaxing subconsciously at the cute action only to tense up again as Peter leans closer, his chest rubbing up against Harley's back as he moves their hands away from DUM-E.

"That," he curls their fingers into a point, and points at a corner of the room, where another robot Harley hadnt noticed sits, seemingly trying to sweep the floor and failing miserably, missing the floor by a few inches each sweep. "Is Butterfingers, the middle child, and that," he shifts their hands more to the right, pointing at _another_ robot further into the room that isn't moving at all. "Is U, the third and final robot Mr. Stark built. He switched to AIs and hologram tech after him." Each word Peter speaks is a puff of warm air on the back of Harley neck, and apparently he's sensitive there because he cant help it as another shiver runs down his back, causing his body to shutter lightly, his throat dry and his face burning.

He could've swore Peter was doing this on purpose, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to react (and it was _working_ , oh god was it working-) but then the boy pulls away, looks at him with innocent concern, and asks "oh, are you cold?" Like he wasn't just acting like the smoothest person on the damn planet.

"Oh, um," Harley forces out a cough, and nods, laughing nervously. "Y-yeah, a little." Yup, cold, toootally cold, nevermind how he feels like a volcano personified, his insides melting to mush right now.

Peter makes a worried noise in the back of his throat, and grabs the bright blue sweater off of the table, holding it out. "Here, you can wear this."

Harley takes it and yanks it on quickly, flustered, mumbling out a quick "thank you." The sweater is a bit big on him, and falls past his hips, so it must be huge on Peter. If it goes past Harley hips, it probably falls all the way to Peter's mid thigh, probably gives him sweater paws, god he probably swims in the material, ' _I wonder what he would look like in one of mine-'_

He needs to stop thinking. Preferably soon. At least the length hides just how effected Harley truly is. 

"Uh, so, the project?" He gives Peter an shaky smile, which turns into a full smile when Peter stands up straight, eyes wide, as if he forgot the main reason they were here in the first place.

"Oh right! Come on, I've got my books over here, so we can get started. So, I was thinking-"

They start discussing their plan of attack, what they need to built first, what needs to go where, how they're going to format it, and it gives Harley plenty of time to calm his racing heart, and to begin really, truly relaxing, his shoulders untensing and his mind easing off of his constant rush of thoughts and feelings, getting filled with blueprints, sketches and font sizes instead.

The chatter dies off after a half an hour or so into a comfortable silence that Harley savors, the only other noise in the room a faint, robotic hum. Peter is typing furiously, body hunched and tongue stuck out in concentration as he write out their summary and hypothesis while Harley is head deep in a motor, taking it apart to borrow parts for the smaller fan they were planning on building. It was great, and it kept Harley busy, but after about an hour and a half of constant work, Harley eyes start to blur, the wires and metals all start to look the same and the silence begins to grate on him. He leans back in his (fancy, might he add) rolly chair and rubs at one of his eyes with a clenched fist, scanning the room with the other.

"So," Peter must have been in the zone, hyperfocused on whatever he is working on now as Harley's voice causes him to flinch, his head swiveling to stare at him with wide eyes. Harley had to hold in a laugh. "Uh, what do you do here? During your internship?"

"Oh!" Peter's eyes light up, and he sits up straight in his excitement, fingers twitching. "It depends on the day. Sometimes I'm down at my desk on the Interns Floor, coming up with ideas for products that Stark Industries could use or create in the future. Sometimes I'm with Ms. Potts, following her around to meetings and getting a general feel for how the company is run. But most of the time," Peter's grin widens. "Most of the time, I'm down here, working with Mr. Stark on his suits."

Harley blinks, gaping. "You work on the Iron Man suits???"

"Yup!" Peter's head is held high, and his chest puffs out subconsciously, obviously proud. "The Iron Man, Iron Patriot and m- Spider-Man's suits."

Peter eyes widened in horror for a second at his slip up, before he had corrected himself, and smoothed out his features, trying to pretend that nothing had happened at all. But Harley noticed. He noticed, and now he cant stop thinking about it, because Harleys pretty damn sure Peter was about to say _my_ suit. As in, _his_ suit is the _Spider-Man_ suit. As in, he is _Spider-Man._ There's no way Peter is Spider-Man though, there's no possible way that sweet innocent Peter could fight crime on the daily... right? But his suspicions from a few days ago, from the fire kick back in, and- and now that he thinks about it, last night, when he was being saved, Spider-Man's voice did sound _awfully familiar_ -

"Do you wanna see it??"

Harley is dragged harshly out of this thoughts by Peter's question, and he blinks once, twice. "Huh?"

Peter looks nervous, picking at his fingernails and eyes bouncing around the room, looking anywhere but at Harley. "The suit we're working on. Well, the blueprints for it, anyways, we haven't really gotten around to building it yet. It isn't really * _ready_ * to be built yet. I mean, it probably could be, but-"

"Sure." Harley cuts off Peter's rambling with a small smile, shaking away his reeling, _idiotic_ thoughts, because this is _Peter_ we're talking about. Kind, caring, youthful, 16 year old high school boy Peter middle-name Parker who rambles when hes nervous and/or excited, who laughs at silly puns, who goes to High School parties and rants and roars about Star Wars with his best friend. Peter Parker can't be Spider-Man, there's no way.

' _Then why is he so nervous?'_ His subconscious asks. He ignores it. There's a churning in his stomach that feels like denial. He ignores that, too.

Peter smiles back shakily (' _shaky, like he's hiding something-'_ ) before waving a hand over the metal table, a light blue hologram in the shape of an Iron Man suit forming in the blink of an eye.  Harley cant help but to ogle at it, the nerdiness in him coming to the forefront, even as his suspicions linger in the back of his mind. He reaches forward, and twirls the hologram around with a twitch of his wrist, before looking at the specifics listed beside the image. "Woah, rapid fire replusor rays, vibranium lining and- nanotechnology?!?" Harley turns to look at him with owlish eyes. "Jesus, where did you even get the vibranium? I thought they only had it in wakanda- wait, did you go to Wakanda?! And nanotechnology, I thought that wasn't possible yet-"

"Its possible," Peter cuts him off, his smile turning real the more Harley ranted. "Mr. Stark figured it out a few months ago, and start implementing it into his suits pretty much as soon as he did. He has an entire suit based around it, the Model 37." Peter waves his hand, and the hologram shifts, turning into a sleeker, shinier looking suit.  "I call it the 'Bleeding Edge' suit though, sounds cooler."

"Of course you would," Harley snorts, before narrowing his eyes, squinting at the image. "Kind of looks like Spider-Man's metal suit." He mumbles under his breath, distracted, playing with the illusion in front of him, not expecting Peter to chip in with a chirpy "Because it is!"

"Well, it isn't, but it's made with the same principal." The hologram shifts into the similar looking Spidey suit. "Nanotechnology with vibranium casings. Durable, but also flexible, which is _very_  important for Spidey's suits. He needs to be able to do his thing, ya know?  It's also very bulletproof."

_'How would you know?'_ is on the tip of Harleys tongue. _'Maybe from personal experience?'_

"Huh." Is what Harley forces out instead, burying those stupid, crazy ( _'crazy, they have to be, there's no way that Peter is-'_ ) thoughts deep into his head, beside the lingering memories from yesterday, beside the things he wants to ignore, wants to forget. "And your aunt is on board? With your internship?"

"Oh, yeah!" Peter's eyes are shining again, a small smile growing on his face, his nerves seeming to fade a bit. "Yeah, she's doesn't mind. She used to hate it at first, she hated Mr. Starks guts," He snorts, a melancholy, nostalgic sort of look on his face. "But, once she saw all the good he was doing, noticed how much he meant to me, especially after my uncle... she came around." He pauses, giving Harley a shaky smile before rolling his eyes. "Now they're thick as thieves, texting each other behind my back and having lunch dates to talk about me. They think I dont know what they're doing, but I do."

Harley cant help the faint laugh that escapes as he leans back in his chair again, breathy chuckles filling the air. "Your life is crazy, man."

Peter nods in agreement, grinning. "Yeah, but I wouldn't have it any other way." His smile drops faintly, and his voice quiets as he picks at the pages on the table beside them, eyes downcast. "After my parents died, and then my uncle, I didn't think I'd have another family. I had my aunt, sure, and I love her to bits, dont get me wrong, she's amazing! But..." He shrugs. "Its not the same, you know?"

Harley knows. Oh, does Harley know. A little too well, he thinks. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." He swallows, _'Am I really gonna talk about this? Am I ready for this?'_   "My- uh, my foster parents, they're- they're like your aunt, that way."

Peter stops his fidgeting, looking back up at him with those big doe eyes, still saddened, darkened with bittersweet memories, but slowly filling back up with a warmth, with a hint of curiosity. "Oh?" He prompts gently, barely a whisper, and Harley knows he could easily find an out, change the topic of this conversation, push the attention off of him again, but... for some reason, he doesnt really want to.

Peter just told him something deep, something personal. He just told him both his parents _and his uncle_ have died, have passed away, and Harley- Harley relates so much, so so _much_ , he understands the pain, the feelings of feeling like you have no family, of feeling alone and lost and-

And he wants Peter to know. He wants to tell Peter everything. He hasnt told anyone before, hasnt even talked about it to the Davis's but- but he wants Peter to know.

He takes a deep, shaky, nervous breathe, his eyes flickering between Peter's open, trusting gaze, before he looks away, exhales, and starts. "Yeah, my-... my mom, she-" He stops, taking another deep breath as tears already start to fill his eyes. He sees Peter shifts out of the corner of his eye, knows hes about to speak up, probably reassure him, say he doesnt have to say this, but he _does_ , he _wants to,_ he _does._  "My mom died about- over a year ago, now, I guess." He chuckles, but shaky, wobbly. "She uh-" he coughs, "She worked, a lot. A lot more than she should've, but she did it so me and Abbie, my-my little sister, so we didnt have to. So we could- could be kids, you know?" Peter nods along, looking attentive, all of his attention on Harley as he sniffles and tries not to sob. "But, one- one night, she took two shifts. She worked all day, and had worked an overnight shift the day before. She was- was over exhausted, and it was late and raining and-" he shutters, a silent sob breaking through as tears start to run down his face, two rivers carving trails down the crevices of his skin. A hand is placed on his back, and rubs soothingly as Harley forces himself to continue, voice shaky and stuttering, "She- she lost control. They said- said she was i-impaired, and lost control, and crashed into-into a tree. She- she d-d-died on impact." He sobs again, louder this time, even as he tries to wipes away the stubborn tears, feeling frustrated at himself, wanting and wishing he could talk about it without crying like a fucking baby.

"I'm sorry, Harls. I'm so so sorry." Peter murmurs softly, his hand continuing its gentle motions, its circular caresses over his back.

Harley just shakes his head, waving off his apology. "I was- was asleep when the police came to our door. When they told me, I- god I broke down, but then Abbie-" The lump in his throat chokes him momentarily, as the reminder of his baby sister comes to mind, her soul crushed, heartbroken face as he learned of what happened, her body collapsing to the ground as she screeched and wailed in agony, in grief and injustice, because it _just wasnt fair._ "And then social workers came. Told us we had no other relatives, that- that we had to go into foster care. That we'd probably be separated. And I _tried_ , Pete, god I tried. I tried to get emancipated, tried to get a job and get enough money so we could keep our house, so we could stay home, so we could stay _together,_  but-" His vision blurs again, and he squeezes his eyes shut, his lips trembling. "But I couldnt. I didnt have enough. I was too young is what they said, too young, but I knew. I wasn't good enough."

"That's not true," Peter tries to intervene, to reassure, but Harley runs over him, chuckling wet, bitter.

"It is. It was. We went to separate homes, separate places, and I always fought them, I fought them tooth and nail, did bad things and acted like an asshole, always got kicked out, always trying to get back to her. But then- then they got tired of me, the Tennessee agency. Grew tired of my bullshit, so they threw me out here, to the wolves." He spits, rubbing his eyes with two fists, before sighing, feeling the fight leave his body as soon as it came. "Now, I have Mr. And Mrs. Davis, and they're nice, they treat me good, but-" He lifts his head, blinking multiple times before glancing over at Peter, seeing empathy written all of his face, sympathy, _pity_ , and concern, and _care_ , _love_. "But they aren't Abbie. They aren't Ma. They aren't my _family_. And I'm just- just waiting for the next shoe to drop, for the moment they get tired of me too, and I'm back going from home to home with nobody to give a shit."

He looks away from Peter again, head down, ashamed. "Thats- that's why I didnt want to get close to you, at first. Why I ran off that day, when we first met. Why I-" He swallows. "Why I shouldnt even be here now. Because it's all temporary. All of this is _temporary,_  and I-" ' _I can't lose anyone else.'_ He doesnt say the words, cant seem to find the strength. Instead, he puts his head into his hands, shivering with a another sob.

"That's not true." Harley tries to speak up again, but Peter just talks louder, voice firm. "No, listen to me." He gently grabs Harley's hands, and pulls them away from his face, replacing them with his own, a hand on either side of Harleys face, wiping away the rivers of his cheeks. "This isn't temporary, Harls. Me and you?" He gestures a hand back and forth between them, smiling gently. "This isnt just gonna go away, okay?"

"But-" Peter cuts him off again.

"Even if you move somewhere else, even if you move out of the state, out of country, _I dont care_ , I will still be here. We'll text everyday, and video call every night if we have to, but I'm not letting this go, okay?" His smile turns cheeky as he adds on, voice humourous, "You arent getting rid of me that easy, Keener."

Harley knows he ment it as a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but the words, the sentiment behind the phrases, inbetween the lines, the fact that Peter isnt going away, that Peter _isnt temporary_ , that Peter will be friends with him _no matter what_ causes Harley to start crying, _really_ crying all over again, rushing forward and pulling Peter into a tight hug, burying his face into his neck.

"Its not just me either, you know." Peter murmurs into his hair as Harley sniffles and sobs into his shoulder. "Ned doesnt mind distance, he has a few friends from different states online. He'll still be ranting to you about anything under the sun, don't you worry." Harley snorts, the noise nastily, but honest, real. "And MJ's basically adopted you at this point, so there's no going back from that. Aunt May loves you, and is always wondering when you'll come over for dinner, and now, Mr. Stark likes you too." He pulls away slowly, but keeps Harley close, their chests still brushing, their eyes connected, and Harley is swimming, swimming in warm chocolate brown, full of live and slight nerves. "I- I know you lost your family, but-" he looks away for a second, his checks turning rosy before he reconnects their gaze. "But you can always be apart of mine? If you want to. I mean," he shrugs with a small, anxious grin, but warm, full of unspoken feelings, full of promise, full of hope, "You basically already are."

Harley is overwhelmed, so overwhelmed and so _relieved_ that he cant help himself, cant stop himself as he gives into his pull and leans forward, slowly pressing their lips together. He snaps out his haze, realizes what hes doing as soon as their lips touch, ' _shit, shit, fuck-'_ , and plans on pulling away, on apologizing, but Peter's hands come back up and cradle his face, holding him and keeping him in place with a light grip, his lips pressing in more, and moving once, twice against his own. Harley shutters, but for a whole other reason than before, and kisses back, his hands finding their way to Peter's neck, one hand grasping at the thin material of his t-shirt and the other running up the back, his finger curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss lasts for a few more moments, soft, quiet, before they pull away, their foreheads staying pressed together and their noses rubbing. They breathe each others air for a few seconds, before Harley dares to open his eyes again, blinking the remaining tears from his eyes, feeling his eyelashes brush against Peter's cheek before they open completely, and before Harley is swept away again. Peter's eyes are beautiful up this close, the simple brown transforming into lights and darks, into caramels and golds and greens, brightened with an overwhelming joy that sends Harley's heart racing faster than it already was, makes it jump with a high of adrenaline and ecstasy and _hope_.

He sees the wide smile on Peters face, pushing up his freckled rosy cheeks (He has so many little freckles, how had he not noticed before?), and gives a breathless, joyous laugh, before pressing his face into his neck and hugging him again, tightly, closely, whispering, "Thank you." Peter just shakes his head, and presses him in closer, wrapping and holding him in his arms.

They stay like that for a while, just basking in each others warmth, trying to calm their beating hearts and racing minds, before Harley lifts his head, laying his chin against Peter's shoulder as he says, voice light, not wanting to break the fragile moment that they've found themselves in. "So, uh, I still dont really know my way around New York... do-" He tilts his head to the side, so he's facing Peter, even if he cant see his face. "Do you maybe wanna show me around?"

Peter tenses, Harley freezes and the moment broken. Shit, did he not mean it? Was the kiss just a spur of the moment, heat of the moment type of thing? Was he reading this all wrong?? _'Of course you are, why would he like you? You're nothing-'_

"Like-" Peter's voice cuts through his quickly spiraling thoughts, soft, _awed._ "Like a date?" Harley nods firmly, shakily, holding his breath, trying not to get his hopes up, but Peter sounded _happy_  so maybe?- "Yeah, yeah, okay."

Harley blinks and pulls away to look Peter in the eye. "Okay?"

Peter just laughs, and nods again, grinning from ear to ear, eyes sparkling. "Okay. Friday, after school?"

Harley blinks a few more times, before subtly pinching himself to make sure this is real, that this is actually happening, that he's _actually going on a date with Peter Parker._ When the shot of pain goes through him, and hes still awake, he sputters, "Yes! Yeah, that's- that's great, perfect, yeah. Cool."

He feels his cheeks heat up when Peter laughs, a faint chuckle of mirth, excitement burning bright behind his irises. "Cool."

"Great."

"Uh huh."

They stare at each other for a few more seconds, before Harley coughs and finally redirects his eyes towards the engine he was working on, sitting there with parts scattered everywhere. "We should- uhm-" He chuckles. "We should probably get back to work."

"Yeah, yeah, probably." Peter agrees easily, giving Harley one last, meaningful look before he pushes off of one of the legs of the table, rolling back towards his laptop on his wheely chair, and starting back on his work as soon as he gets there, refocused almost instinatiously, like nothing had ever happened. If it wasnt for the faint blush on his eyes, and the wide grin on his face, Harley would've thought it hadn't.

Harley shakes his head disbelievingly, watching the younger boy for a few more before turning his attention back to the motor, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, feeling higher and lighter than the clouds themselves, any  thoughts of Spiderman or the night before completely vanished from his mind, replaced with bright, warm, hopeful ideas of what Friday is going to bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now! Come say hi! @shadedrose01 :D
> 
> Also, we have a parkner discord chat now! The link is https://discord.gg/Hg3868S so come join! If you want to lol :))


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